


The Prince Diaries

by sunshineflying



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Teenagers, in which Ben's first kiss is less than ideal, mean boys, teenage boys drink Mountain Dew right?, the princess diaries au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-08-14 10:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: Just weeks before his eighteenth birthday, Ben's father drops a bomb on him: his grandmother -- whom he hasn't heard from for most of his life -- wants to speak to him. What she has to say has the potential to turn his life upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to Meeda for beta reading this for me! 
> 
> Yet another WIP... thanks for coming along for the ride. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing this!

Ben Solo’s life hadn’t been good to him so far, but it hadn’t been bad to him either. 

Growing up in Ohio, he’s had a boring, normal upbringing. Raised by his dad, single father mechanic Han Solo, Ben had an okay life. Han was good at the basics — providing for him, teaching him what he needs to know — but aside from living together and being related, they didn’t have much in common. Ben had no interest in working on cars, or spending the weekends with his dad in front of the television watching a sports game. In fact, one of the only things they bonded over was food: microwave meals, instant meals, easy stuff. Ordering pizza was a ritual.

But having few things in common meant that Han had no idea how to help when teachers started telling him just how much Ben was struggling. It was difficult for Ben to make friends — his ears were big and stood out, his teeth were a little crooked, his face was covered in acne and his dark hair was too greasy — and he didn’t like to socialize. He stayed hidden in his room when he wasn’t out with his best friend (and only friend, Han would suspect), Armitage Hux.

So, Han tried to get Ben out of his shell whenever he could, but more often than not Ben would retreat to his room and work on his writing. Instead of trying to change his son, Han instead tried to encourage him as much as he could, giving him the calligraphy set he wanted for his sixteenth birthday, and the vintage writing desk he’d been eyeing up for Christmas his junior year.

But now Ben is a senior in high school, his entire life ahead of him, and Han has less than ideal news to deliver to him. And he’s terrified to do it.

Ben wanders downstairs in his school uniform, a boring navy blue polo shirt and black trousers, his hair a greasy mess even though Han knew that Ben had showered the night before. He’d made a mess of the bathroom, like always. Ben’s habit of dripping water everywhere hadn’t gone away as he got into his teen years, but the boy had it hard enough, not having many friends in school, and not knowing exactly what he wanted to do with his life. Han didn’t have the heart to get on his case about the water, or maybe trying a different shampoo or conditioner.

Everything was delicate with Ben. He was sensitive and emotional, something Han constantly struggled with.

“Hey kid,” Han greets his son as Ben takes a seat at the counter island.

There are a few dishes around the kitchen but for the most part, it was pretty tidy. Han slid a bowl across the counter to Ben, followed immediately by a box of raisin bran. Han didn’t understand it, but Ben loved them. Han chomped on his own bowl of Frosted Flakes and waited for Ben to get settled with his breakfast before breaking the news to him.

After dumping out his bowl and pouring some coffee, Han bites the bullet. “Hey, so… listen. Your grandma’s in town. She wants to see you,” he says awkwardly.

Ben looks up through his messy strands of hair. “Grandma’s dead. Are you okay?” he asks critically. 

Han sighs. “Your mom’s mom,” he amends. “She’s in town, and wants to see you.”

Darkly, Ben says, “She’s never wanted to see me before.”

“Ben —”

Ben slides his cereal bowl across the counter in a huff, standing up to gather up his things for school. Hux will be picking him up for school soon, and hates to be kept waiting. 

“I don’t understand why all of a sudden she wants to see me,” Ben sighs. “It’s been almost eighteen years. She didn’t even bother after mom died.”

“She had a perfectly good reason for that,” Han waggles his finger at Ben defensively.

Ben crosses his arms. “Oh yeah? What reason is that?”

Han hesitates; he doesn’t actually know her reasoning, he’d been bluffing. “You’ll find out when you talk to her today after school,” he says lamely.

“I’m going to Hux’s after school.”

He’s glowering cynically at his father; he’s got dark, intense eyes, the kind of gaze that even Han finds a bit intimidating, even though he’s raised this kid and changed his diapers. “You can go to Hux’s after. Your grandma’s in town and she has something very important she wants to talk to you about, with it being your eighteenth birthday in a couple weeks.”

“Dad —”

“You’re going. I’m giving you the address and you can bike there, or get a ride from Hux. Whatever. I’ll drive you if you want, but I don’t think you want,” Han says gruffly. He looks to be just as uncomfortable with the conversation as Ben does, but presses on. “But if you disagree, she says she’s going to send her guy to hunt you down and bring you there, so just… suck it up and go, would you? It’s not worth fighting.”

“I don’t —”

“You’re going. End of story.”

Han barks out his command, raising his voice just enough to startle Ben. It’s a rare occasion when his father raises his voice, and it means that he’s not messing around or taking any more arguments. “Fine,” Ben says darkly. “I expect pizza tonight. Extra cheese.”

“Yes, sir,” Han says mockingly, saluting his son and leaving the room before Ben can get any angrier at him.

In a huff, Ben grabs his bookbag from the corner, ruffles his hand over his hair, and stalks out the door. Hux is waiting outside in his Audi, looking impatient as usual. Their friendship is an odd one — stretching from preschool onwards, though their interests wane and don’t always match up. Hux is one of the only people with the patience for Ben’s introvertedness, and he appreciates the way Ben will just sit back and let someone else talk if they want to talk. Given that Hux likes to be heard and be in charge, it’s truly a friendship match made in heaven.

Ben slumps into the passenger’s seat with an angry sigh, prompting Hux to ask, “What’s your problem?”

On the drive to school, Ben explains, complaining left and right about how he doesn’t want to waste his time on someone who couldn’t be bothered to visit him for most of his life. “At least you have relatives who want to see you,” Hux hisses as he begins navigating the jungle that is Empire High’s parking lot. “Go and see what she wants. Ask for money, then don’t speak to her once she gives you some. Easy.”

It’s not the worst plan Ben’s ever heard, so he decides to let that calm him so he can focus on the day ahead. Undoubtedly, most of the day will suck until he reaches Creative Writing, his last class of the day and his safe haven.

See, most of the kids at Ben’s school aren’t exactly the nicest. The curly-haired douchebag named Poe in his gym class calls him Greasy, no doubt a not-so-subtle jibe at his hair. Poe’s best friend Finn always laughs hysterically and, every once in awhile, spends the next class period flinging paper at Ben’s hair to see how greasy it is that day — the longer it takes the paper to slide out, the cleaner his hair is. Then there’s Physical Science, where Ben solidly flies through on Hux’s coattails, followed by lunch, Statistics, and the dreaded Debate class where he has to argue with a little girl named Rose — half his size, but twice as smart as him. The whole day is miserable, one misfortune after another.

But then, he gets to Creative Writing and it’s all worth it. They’re a small class, only about a dozen students, none of whom have any desire to pick on him. Ben can sit off to the side, scribbling in his notebook when he has ideas, even if they strike him in the middle of the class. His teacher, Ms. Kanata — _Maz_, as she made everyone call her — lets him scribble down his thoughts. She treats him like a human, and makes everyone else in the class treat each other with respect.

“Writing is a deeply vulnerable thing. It lets people close to you, closer than conversation ever could. You’re baring a piece of your soul to everyone whose heart you touch with your words. Be kind or fail.”

That had been her speech on the first day of class, and when their workshops began and Ben learned that Maz had no tolerance if anyone broke her rule, he immediately fell in love with the class. Feedback from his peers pushed him to be a better writer. Maz constantly expected more of him but rewarded him for his improvements, rather than marking him down to motivate him. 

On this particular day, she takes them to the rooftop of the school, somewhere Ben isn’t entirely sure they’re allowed to go. They sit each off on their own, writing whatever her daily prompt inspires within them. 

Ben ruminates over the word, wondering what to write. _Monumental._ What does that mean? It may feel monumental sitting on top of the school, staring out at the boring, rolling plains of Ohio, but it’s really not. His dad is a mechanic. Ben’s going to be lucky if he gets into Ohio State for school next year. What’s monumental about his life? 

Absolutely nothing.

It’s one of the most difficult prompts he’s ever had to write. Rather than reflecting on his own life, as he’s so often tempted to do for his writing, he instead disappears into a fictional world. He writes of characters on a grand quest, called to something greater than themselves, to save their people and protect the livelihood of their civilization. Grandiose, magnificent, _monumental._

Before he knows it, the faint echoes of Maz’s voice call out across the rooftop, telling them it’s time to go back to the classroom, to gather their bags because the bell is going to ring soon, releasing them from the prison walls of school for the day.

Suddenly, Ben is struck with horror and would rather be trapped in the confines of the hell that he calls Empire High. He doesn’t want to know what his grandmother has to say. He doesn’t even want to see her; not if she can’t be bothered to look him up more than once in eighteen years.

Hux meets Ben by his locker after the bell rings, pestering Ben for his grandmother’s address in lieu of any real greeting. Ben rolls his eyes and says he’ll get it in the car; he just wants to get out of school before they run into Poe and Finn. Finn’s locker is just down the hall.

Ben’s leg bounces the whole drive, as Hux takes them in the route the GPS instructs — out of the city proper, and into the suburbs where only the wealthiest people live. Even Hux doesn’t live out here. “What does your grandmother do that she lives out _here_?” Hux asks incredulously.

Shrugging, Ben says, “I don’t know. I’m not even sure she does anything at all. She doesn’t live here. She’s probably just at a really expensive Airbnb.”

“These people do not Airbnb their places,” Hux says bluntly. “If anything, they do a more expensive, private version where they charge four times as much. Which again makes me want to know what the _hell_ your grandmother does.”

“And I told you, I don’t know,” Ben says through gritted teeth. “But if you ask me one more time, I’m putting my feet on your dashboard and scuffing it up.”

Hux purses his lips and presses his foot on the accelerator, speeding down the old back-country road. Eventually, they pull up outside what appears to be a colonial home styled like Versailles. It’s the strangest amalgamation of design styles either boy has ever seen. “Don’t even say it,” Ben monotones. “I don’t know this woman.”

“Well, text me afterwards,” Hux replies. “I want to know _all_ about this.”

He looks smug as Ben gets out of the car and starts trudging up to the front door. Ben ignores it and looks down at his feet. He doesn’t want to be here, and can’t believe he’d actually followed through on it. What could Han have possibly done if Ben hadn’t gone? Driven him back the next day? 

Ben bumps the toe of his leather shoe against the stone trimming along the garden, and then steps onto the lawn. He’s not going to walk all the way around to get to the door; he’s going to walk the shortest possible route, for efficiency. Not because he actually wants to see his grandmother, of course, but just because he doesn’t want to follow the rules. It’s not like she’s done the same for him, holding to her role as grandmother in her life. She’s a stranger to him.

He’s barely three steps along when a voice comes over a loudspeaker, “Please step off the lawn!”

Ben startles, and the same phrase is repeated in different languages until he frantically trips over his two left feet to get back on the pavement. Grumbling under his breath, Ben takes the long, paved path to the front door of what, up close, appears to be a manor. It’s gaudy and stupid, and he stubbornly does not want to enter. But before he can turn on his heel and go back to the street, to see if Hux is still in eyesight, the front door opens.

In the doorway stands a tall, regal-looking woman in a grey pantsuit. Her hair is purple, but in curls reminiscent of the hairstyles of the fifties. It’s an odd mixture of vintage and ultra-modern, and Ben immediately decides he doesn’t like her, because she’s smiling at him knowingly, and he doesn’t know what she possibly thinks she knows. “You must be Ben,” she says warmly. “Please, come in. The Queen is expecting you.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Queen?”

“One moment while I fetch her,” says the purple-haired woman, gesturing to a very fancy sofa in the foyer of the home. 

Before he can ask any more questions, she disappears, leaving Ben all on his own. The home looks well-decorated but hardly lived in. He scoffs; seems fitting for a long-absent grandmother. There are paintings on the walls of people he doesn’t recognize — a man with dark, intense eyes and wavy brown hair, a scar on the outside of his right eye, a straight line down from his forehead to his cheek. Something about him looks sad, a little tortured; like he wasn’t quite happy or at peace with his life.

Next to that painting is one of a beautiful woman with white traditional paint on her face, a red lip and small circles on her cheeks, a massive golden headpiece atop her head to complement her red dress with wide shoulders and dark accents. She looks regal and commanding, serious and stern.

Then, he sees _her_. His mother. She looked absolutely beautiful, with not a spot of makeup on as she stared seriously and with much determination at the painter. Her hair was in two large twists on either side of her head, and she wore a high-necked white dress for her portrait. Ben could see which parts of him had come from his mother — strong chin and jaw, deep eyes. But mixed with his father’s gruff, grumpy expressions, Ben had become a mixture of good parts of each of his parents, which in turn became a less-than-handsome looking person. There was a small chance that he’d grow into his looks, but he was doubtful.

Though she was separated for a time from her birth parents due to unrest in her home country, his mother Leia had a good life. She’d sought asylum with the Organa family of Alderaan, a small country near the gulf, sharing a coast with Greece. It was beautiful, and his mother wore all the splendid white linen traditional gowns of their people. She’d fit in better than she ever would have where she’d grown up — or so Han had told him. Han rarely spoke of Leia, and when he did, he always got too sad to tell Ben where she was from, or what she once did.

Which was why Ben didn’t understand what he was looking at, or where he was currently standing. Why the home might be relevant or important. 

“Ben? Your grandmother will see you, now. We have tea in the garden.”

“I don’t drink tea,” Ben responds immediately.

The purple-haired woman stands in the doorway, nonplussed. “Your father informed us. We’ve invested in… what is it that you enjoy? Mountain Dew?”

“Code Red?” he tests her.

Again, his words don’t ruffle a feather. “Of course,” she smiles. “Please, come with me.”

She turns on her heel, not giving him the option to argue any longer. Reluctantly, Ben follows her through the home and to the backyard where there’s a table set up in the middle of a gazebo. It looks stupid and traditional, and Ben immediately hates it. His grandmother’s back is to the door; he can see from here that her shoulders have slumped with age, and her spine curves forward just a bit. But she wears her hair in a sensible chignon, most of it gray, in that salt and pepper way that only certain people can pull off. She seems to be able to do so.

“Your Majesty, your grandson Ben,” says the woman.

She curtsies and Ben raises an eyebrow at her as he walks around the table towards the empty chair. His grandmother looks to the woman and says, “Thank you, Amilyn. That will be all for now.”

His grandmother’s voice is calm and steady, each word enunciated with great care and precision. She’d no doubt be an incredible public speaker. 

Then, she turns her attention to Ben. While he’s still upset that he’s had to make the trek out here, and that he has no idea why she’s just been called _Your Majesty_, he can’t help but soften just a little. She looks almost sad to see him, and allows that to reflect in her gaze. “Ben. You’ve grown up so much.”

She gestures to the chair across from her, where a beautiful crystal glass filled with Code Red Mountain Dew sits waiting for him. It looks ridiculous, and he suddenly feels like maybe he should have just asked for lemonade or something. She’s far less judgmental than anyone else he’s ever met, so Ben obliges and lowers himself to the chair. His grandmother smiles at him.

“You must have a lot of questions,” she begins.

Ben is quiet; it’s true, he does, but hasn’t the first idea how to begin to voice those questions. Everything about this situation is unusual and uncomfortable. He nods, to acknowledge that he’s heard her.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she says. “I want to thank you for meeting with me today. I understand if, after everything, you’re not particularly open to what I have to say.”

Again, she’s right. It’s confusing to Ben, how someone could understand how he’s feeling and thinking quite as well as she has. Is he that predictable? Or is this what it’s like to have someone pay attention and understand, to empathize?

“Pardon me for interrupting, but Queen Padme, the chef has sent out the charcuterie.”

It’s the purple-haired woman, Amilyn, interrupting them. She carries a wooden board filled with meats, cheeses, crackers, and olives. Gently, she places it in the center of the table. “Thank you, Amilyn,” says Padme, before nodding to dismiss her.

“Queen?”

Padme is quiet, and her polite smile begins to fall. She looks over to the side, at the beautiful flower garden just beyond the walls of the gazebo. There’s a sadness in her eyes that Ben couldn’t put into words — and he’s typically quite good with words.

“Yes,” she says softly. “Queen. Of Naboo. Have you heard of it?”

Ben nods. “It neighbors Alderaan, mother’s country.”

“Naboo was her country, too. First and foremost,” says Padme. “When she and Luke fled for safety, during those years of unrest during the Conflict of the Trade Federation, neither returned to their rightful place in the palace. Now, Luke has sworn off his lineage, and your mother, God rest her soul, has passed on the royal duties of Alderaan to the family second in line.”

Ben takes a moment to look his grandmother over, to really look at her. Her eyes wear lots of sadness, the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she sits tall, as tall as she can. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and around her mouth imply she was happy, that she smiled a lot. But she also looks world-weary, ready to move on to the next part of her life — relaxation and freedom.

But even with that realization, Ben has no idea what’s coming.

“But on Naboo, I hold the crown,” Padme says. She speaks slowly, hesitantly, trying not to spook him. “Ben… you are next in line for the throne of Naboo.”

He nearly knocks over his goblet of Code Red Mountain Dew in shock. His face screws up in total disgust, only the slightest bit of confusion to go with it, and he blurts out unceremoniously, “Shut _up_.”

Padme looks alarmed. “Well, that’s uncalled for,” she says, reaching for her tea. After a beat, she says, “You’re perfectly suited to it. I hear you have a way with words.”

“How would you even know that? You know nothing about me,” he scoffs.

She smiles knowingly at him, unfazed by his attitude. “Your father told me,” Padme explains. “He’s told me a lot about you.” 

The way Ben has dropped his hands to his lap and refuses to meet her eye tells Padme that he’s closing himself off to her, to what she’s trying to tell him. It’s important that she fix things before she loses him completely.

“Ben, I understand you’re upset that I haven’t been present for much of your life,” Padme begins gently. “It wasn’t from a place of disinterest, or lack of care. In all honesty, it was because I care that I kept my distance. Your mother and I spoke briefly about it, when you were young. Your father was there, too. We wanted you to have a normal life, growing up away from the duties of the royal family. Leia passed on the throne of Alderaan to the second family in line for the throne in anticipation of you leading Naboo one day.”

He frowns, his brow furrowed in frustration. “And you didn’t think to tell me at all?”

“There’s no easy way to do this,” Padme says. “There’s no guide on how to raise a child who is in line for the throne. It was all guesswork. But we wanted you to grow up with a normal life, at a normal school. No pressure on your shoulders.”

Arms crossed, Ben asks petulantly, “So why now?”

She smiles, amused at his thinly-veiled curiosity. “You’re nearing your eighteenth birthday. On that day, you are able to take the throne. I am ready to pass it on to you. You’re ready to be an amazing leader.”

“I have _no_ training. I’m crap at my government classes because I don’t _care_. Not to mention, I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t look anything like a prince. Or worse, a _king_.”

Padme reaches across the table, opening her hand palm-up. She waits for Ben to take her hand, to give her a chance. He hesitates, but thankfully obliges. His hand is large and smooth in hers, and she squeezes it reassuringly before saying, “You’ll be an excellent leader because you weren’t raised in it. You were raised in a normal place, with normal people. You have a perspective that no other royals do. And most importantly — you _do_ look like a king. After a few etiquette lessons and perhaps a haircut, maybe you’ll even feel it, too.”

“Do I have to?” he asks.

His anger has ebbed away, nothing but uncertainty and fear left on his face. Padme knows she’s broken through to him when she sees; he trusts her enough to be vulnerable around him, at least this much. She squeezes his hand and says, “No. But I wanted you to have the opportunity. Will you try?”

Ben looks unsure. He shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I — can I think about it?”

She wants to say no — she’s only in Ohio for a couple of weeks, and the whole of Naboo waits to meet their future leader, knowing that the mystery will soon be revealed. But this is a lot to spring on Ben, this Padme knows, so she nods and says, “Of course. Can we meet again in two days? This Thursday? We will do a few lessons and see how you’re feeling about it then.”

He frowns. _Christ_ he wants to say no, wants to tell her to buzz off because her excuse for not speaking to him is weak. But she looks so earnest, and she’s warmer with him than his father ever has been, and that appeals to the softer side of Ben. He sighs, his breath trembling. Finally, he nods.

“Sure. I’ll come over after school again.”

“Excellent,” she responds. “Ben, this means so much to me. To all of Naboo, really. Thank you.”

Nodding, Ben says, “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

It’s not the most promising of responses, but Padme knows that if she can wear him down enough to come back a second day, there’s more hope than she’d thought to get him to continue to train with her, and to consider taking on the role he was born for: King of Naboo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben decides to indulge his grandmother and go to another prince lesson. Then, he visits the cute mechanic to see the diagnosis on his busted Mustang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Meeda for being a wonderful beta! <3

Though he’s not particularly looking forward to being told all the ways in which he doesn’t have what it takes to be a prince, Ben returns to his grandmother’s home, anyway. Hux drives him again, and is just barely placated by Ben’s promises to tell him what’s happening soon — that weekend, if Hux backs off and lets it go until then. Hux isn’t pleased about it, but agrees, as the promise of information is just too tempting to pass up.

This time, upon arrival, Ben walks along the curved pathway to the front door, still grumbling under his breath that the path is highly impractical and requires far more walking than it should, but not rebelling and using the grass. He’d rather the loudspeakers _not_ shout at him again.

Holdo is waiting, ready to open the door as soon as he arrives. “Benjamin, welcome,” she smiles.

“Benjamin? The last time someone called me that, I was five and torturing the dog,” Ben says critically.

Smiling sweetly, Holdo says, “You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to assume the throne. All your subjects will call you by your full, proper name.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I never said I’d do it,” replies Ben.

Something about this woman makes him feel bold enough to talk back to her as he is — perhaps it’s her cool, collected demeanor. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’re about the same height, which is no small feat. Ben is almost comically tall in comparison to his classmates — only Hux comes close — so it’s refreshing to be around someone closer in height to him.

“We’ll be in the parlor today,” Holdo says calmly. 

“Oh, is it okay if I leave after an hour today? My car’s in the shop and they finally know how much it’s gonna take to fix, so I want to go check it out before they close,” Ben says. 

It’s the most lively he’s ever sounded, and despite herself, it makes Holdo smile more. “I’m sure your grandmother will be fine with that, but you’ll need to ask her.”

“Ask me what?”

Padme is seated at a small secretary desk, beautifully carved from mahogany with sparse decor on top. She’s writing on a piece of stationery with a beautiful pen, but stops when she spots Holdo and Ben in the doorway. 

“The mechanic’s got a diagnosis for me on my car. Like, how much it’ll cost to fix. So I want to go over there after like an hour, so I can catch them before they close,” Ben explains.

Padme raises an eyebrow curiously. “Isn’t your father a mechanic?”

“What good is that if he doesn’t give me a discount?” Ben asks critically. “Besides, Rey’s the best there is for fixing cars. Her rate is cheap because she’s an apprentice, and she’s actually fun to talk to.”

Holdo and Padme exchange knowing looks, to which Ben immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that,” he snaps. “She’s my friend. She’s a junior at school and she’s not into me.”

They’re both quiet, and Ben wonders if they’re trying to get him to second guess himself. He doesn’t bite, though. “So what are we doing today?” he asks.

“We’re walking,” Padme says, standing from her desk.

Her strides are graceful and slow; it’s as though she’s making everyone wait for her to get where she’s going, like the world moves for her and nobody else. “Are you gonna put books on my head?” Ben asks bluntly.

She flashes a smile, a bit of laughter with it. “No, not quite,” she says. “But we do need to take some of that bounce out of your step.”

“I don’t bounce.”

“Waddle, then,” she amends. 

Ben’s expression darkens; clearly, he’s not fond of either term. “Why does it matter how I walk, anyway? Aren’t I just supposed to sit on a throne and listen to people?” he asks.

Padme steps nearer to him, looking endeared by his question. “That’s perhaps what our ancestors did, but things are different now. We frequent charity events, or pay visits to local businesses. You will be out and about all the time, if you choose to accept the crown,” she explains. “It’s important that you look strong, to instill a sense of security and trust in your people.”

“I don’t look strong when I walk right now?”

She gently rests her hand on his upper arm. “It’s not that you don’t look strong. But you are a bit… _stompy_.”

Ben looks away, feeling his cheeks redden. Even though she’s trying to be gentle about it, it feels like a jab at his very being. He can’t control how he walks — it’s just always how he’s done it and his dad never said there was anything wrong with it.

“So, is this whole thing just going to be you telling me everything I suck at? Because they do that enough at school, I don’t need it from you, too,” says Ben darkly. “And if that’s the case, I’m not doing it. You can find someone else to be the prince.”

Padme’s expression doesn’t change; her husband was just as difficult, if not more so. If only Ben knew how much they were alike. That’s a story for another time, she supposes. Instead of indulging Ben’s tantrum, she gestures to the side and instructs, “Set down your bag. We’ll get started.”

At first, Ben does as she asks without much protestation. She slows down a footstep to a tedious roll from heel to toe, feet directed forward. Ben does it with her, but nearly loses his balance in the process. “It gets easier,” she reassures him. “But you have to practice.”

“I don’t have time to practice,” he grumbles.

“You walk every day,” Padme argues. She’s unfazed by his attitude even still, and Ben is amazed at her patience. “You have time to practice _this_.” 

She adjusts the collar of his polo shirt — the boring school uniform he wears every day — and then steps to his side. “Now, this time, walk as I’ve shown you, but keep your back straight and tall,” Padme instructs.

Her hand drifts along his spine and chest, adjusting his posture. Ben frowns. “I’m freakishly tall, this doesn’t help,” he complains.

“Your grandfather was tall, too,” Padme says. “It’s a sign of a good leader. It conveys strength and power.”

“Me? Strong and powerful?” Ben scoffs. 

Very gently, Padme brings her hands to her sides. “Yes, _you_. But if you don’t believe it, you’ll never be able to show it,” she says. “Just trust. Imagine for one moment that you’re not at school, or here… imagine you’re in a place where you’re comfortable. Close your eyes for a moment, picture it.”

It feels ridiculous, but Ben goes along with it. He closes his eyes. Padme instructs him to take a deep breath, and he does. His posture straightens. His chin lifts. 

“Good,” says Padme softly. “Now _walk_.”

It’s taken almost a solid hour, but Ben’s first few steps are so drastically different than how he’d walked into the manor that Padme can hardly believe her eyes. He loses the grace about halfway across the ballroom, but it’s a work in progress. He’s doing better than she’d hoped. She considers asking him what he’d envisioned in his head, but thinks better of it.

“I can’t do it,” he says finally, when he reaches the other side of the ballroom.

Padme approaches, emulating the very footwork she’s been trying to get Ben to practice. “You did well. What you started with was perfect. Now you just need to practice in order to maintain it.”

Ben’s posture has returned to the slumped-over, teenage boy look he’d walked in with, and Padme can see the discouragement on his face. He has half a mind to quit right then and there, to say he has no interest in being a prince or a king, but before he can open his mouth to say it, he’s interrupted by his grandmother.

“Why don’t we call it a day?” she suggests. “Obi-Wan can take you to the garage, to see your mechanic. How does that sound?”

Ben glances up; he looks surprised, that she’d end lessons early, and that she’d offer a ride. “Who’s Obi-Wan?” he asks.

“He’s my driver,” says Padme warmly. “He’s a good man. He’ll see that you get wherever you need to go.”

Almost as though he’d been summoned merely by the mention of his name, a man appears in the doorway looking more like a secret service agent than a driver. Padme looks to him and says, “Obi-Wan, this is my grandson Ben. I believe he needs to get to a nearby garage, to see his mechanic about his car. Can you handle that for me, please?”

Ben observes a strange lingering gaze between Obi-Wan and his grandmother, but looks away at the thought. It makes him uncomfortable, thinking about his grandmother dating. Obi-Wan looks nice enough, though, even if he _is_ making googly eyes at the Queen. His facial hair is shaved short and the wrinkles on his face imply he’s smiled a lot in his many years. His sandy blonde hair is fading to grey where it lands across his forehead.

“Of course, Padme,” he says with a curt nod. 

Then, he looks to Ben and asks, “Shall we go? If you give me the name of the shop, I can use the GPS and you can relax in the back seat.”

Assuming he means the back seat of the car, Ben shrugs; it makes no difference to him whether or not he needs to navigate to the garage or not.

So he’s completely shocked when it’s not a car, but a _limousine_, waiting out front.

Obi-Wan opens the door for him and inputs the address into the GPS, and Ben spends the rest of the drive leaning back in the seat, watching the boring Ohio hills roll by. Obi-Wan thankfully doesn’t press for information or try to make conversation; instead, he allows Ben some peace and quiet so he can try to decompress a little between the prince lesson and his time with Rey. He doesn’t want to walk into that tense and angry — she doesn’t deserve his bad attitude. She’s too good for him, and he’ll do anything possible _not_ to scare her away.

“Can you drop me off like a block away? I don’t want to call attention to myself,” Ben says as they approach the street on which the shop resides.

Obi-Wan looks up and makes eye contact with Ben through the rearview mirror. “Of course. Is here alright?”

He begins to pull over to the curb, exactly one block before the GPS says they’ll reach their location. Ben nods and starts to scoot towards the door. “Yeah, this is fine,” says Ben. “You don’t have to get out, I’ve got the door.”

“You know,” says Obi-Wan, “if you take the crown, you won’t be allowed to open the door yourself.”

Ben frowns. “Well… then let me do it while I can, okay?” he responds.

It’s the closest he’s come to acknowledging he may possible assume the crown, and it causes Obi-Wan to smile just a little as he watches Ben walk down the sidewalk and away from the limo. He’ll have to be sure to share that with Padme later. She’s had her doubts that he’d be willing to stick it out, but this may well be what she needs to boost her confidence in her grandson. 

He’ll just omit the part where Ben is right back to his “stompy” walking as soon as he’s out of the car.

As Ben approaches Resistance Garage, he can hear music. It’s bad pop music, usually Rihanna or something along those lines, but Rey says it _gets her motor running_, which is her way of saying it keeps her focused on work — even if it sounds like something much more explicit.

She’s bopping along to “Umbrella” as she digs under the hood of someone’s Subaru, and he can see his sleek black Mustang in the corner. His heavy footfalls alert Rey to his arrival and she looks up with a smile on her face. Ben pauses next to her workbench and reaches over to turn down the little radio so he can be heard. “Hey, I hear you’ve got a diagnosis?”

Rey nods and reaches for the rag draped over the side of the car. It’s so dirty, he doubts it does much to actually clean off her hands. Her three buns down the back of her head are messy, flyaway hairs going every which way. Her eyes are sparkling as she nods and says, “I do! It’s not as bad as you thought.”

She tips her head towards the Mustang and Ben follows. He notices a smudge of grease on her upper arm, and the way her hips sway just so as she walks to the car. At that second observation, he shakes his head and looks away; she’s his mechanic, not eye candy. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage. 

“...so all you’ll have to do is rustle up about three hundred bucks or so, and we can do it. I even offered to do the repair for free, since you’ve been waiting so long.”

Ben realizes as she stops to look at him that he’d tuned out on her. Regardless of what the repair actually is, three hundred is far less than he’d expected. “That’s good, then,” he says dumbly. “You don’t have to do the labor for free, though. I can get my grandma to pay for it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Grandma? I thought it was just you and your dad?”

He shrugs. “She’s in town, wanted to see me. Didn’t bother for the first almost eighteen years of my life, but my dad talked me into going and I figure I can get a few guilt donations out of her before she leaves,” Ben answers.

Rey’s frowning up at him, and Ben doesn’t like that. He didn’t think what he’d said was that wrong; helping him pay for his car is the least his grandmother could do to make up for so many years of no contact. “What?” he asks.

“It’s just —” Rey’s quiet for a moment, and then shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“No, come on. What?” he presses.

Rey sighs. “I mean, at least she looked you up, right?” she says. “That’s huge. That’s more than some people get.”

Ben realizes in that moment that he’s completely forgotten what Rey told him about her family. She’s told him a lot over the months since he’d bought his car. He had it taken directly to Resistance Garage in a moment of anger at his father, and learned that in all actuality, it was probably the wiser choice. Rey was kind and did labor for dirt cheap, not to mention they’d let him park his busted car there for as long as necessary without charging him for it. 

And her family had abandoned her. 

As a child, Rey had lived in foster homes, and one had lasted a while. But then she didn’t want to follow in the typical expected life journey that most kids their age did: college, a job, marriage, and a family. No, Rey wanted to work in the garage, maybe settle for a two year associate’s degree but only if it was absolutely necessary. They hadn’t talked about marriage and a family — what seventeen year old newly-acquainted friends would? — and Ben couldn’t fathom what her response to that would be. It was a fifty-fifty shot at this point, between not starting a family because she didn’t have one of her own and didn’t see the point, or starting one purely because she _hadn’t_ had one.

“You’re right,” Ben nods. “I’m sorry.”

She smacks him playfully on the arm with her dirty rag. “Just be grateful, okay? And enjoy it. If not for yourself, then for me, alright?” she says.

He sighs and nods before turning his attention to the car. He’d spent years working at the Barnes and Noble in town to save up money for this thing. He’d spent a whole Saturday with Rey cleaning it, trying to get that shine back in the black paint. But better than all of that, he got to work on this car with Rey — one of the only people in his life who never judged him, never mocked him, even on his worst days.

Ben could actually be himself around her, and that meant the world to him.

“What’s on your mind?”

She tucks the rag in the pocket of her military green overalls and crosses her arms. She’s leaning against the wall next to his car and watching him through narrowed eyes. Ben catches her gaze and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” he says.

Raising an eyebrow, Rey asks, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Ben nods. 

He doesn’t exactly know how to tell one of his closest friends — even if she probably doesn’t consider him the same — that he’s just learned he’s a prince and that one day he’ll be in charge of more than his own car and maybe sometimes a dog. 

“Alright, well, if you change your mind you know where to find me,” she says. 

She practically lives at the garage, so he’s confident he could find her if he wanted to. Ben nods, and he revels for a moment in the way her whole face lights up in a smile.

Rey has always impressed him; the way she can smile in the face of so many years of adversity. He would have given up on optimism when he was ten, if he’d been in her shoes. Plus, she’s unapologetically herself. She’s been given up by enough homes for not fitting the mold of an ideal daughter that she’s fully embraced who she is and what she enjoys, not letting anyone or anything stand in her way. Rey is fearlessly herself, something Ben knows he will never, ever be.

“So,” he says, desperate to change the topic to something far less serious. “Enough about my car. What about _yours_?”

Rey grins.

After a decidedly lengthy conversation next to the open hood of a vintage powder blue VW Beetle, Rey’s boss walks through the garage telling them it’s time to shut down. She waves Ben off with a warm smile, saying she needs to clean up her workbench and put the rags in the wash, so he should go on ahead without her. Sometimes, they walk together at the end of the night, but never part at the same place. Rey never lets him know where she lives. They haven’t crossed that line yet.

It’s only a three block walk to his house, and when Ben walks through the door, he’s actually shocked to see his father still awake. Han sits on the recliner, beer in hand as a sports game of some sort plays quietly in the background. He looks up when Ben appears in the doorway, an awkward half-smile on his face. “Hey kid,” he says.

“Hi.”

Ben wanders across the living room, directly in front of the TV, to the kitchen where he opens up the fridge and stands mindlessly. 

“You visit your grandma again today?” Han shouts over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Rey, too.”

Han turns in his chair and asks, “Oh? What’d she have to say about your car?”

Ben shrugs and reaches into the fridge, withdrawing a half-gallon of milk. “I don’t remember the details. But she said it’ll be about three hundred,” he says.

He sets the milk on the counter and grabs a glass from the cupboard as Han asks, “Three hundred? That’s it? I haven’t seen under the hood but if it’s not running, it’s gonna be more than that for parts and labor.”

“She said she’d do the labor for free.”

Ben ignores the way his father stares dumbly at him, choosing instead to focus on pouring milk and digging out the half-eaten box of Oreos from the top shelf where his dad thinks he can’t see them. That shelf hasn’t been a good hiding spot since Ben was in the fourth grade.

Han wanders to the kitchen and asks, “You’re gonna let her?”

“Well, no. Depends on how much grandma gives me to fix it,” Ben says casually as he pours himself some milk. “Rey’s gonna get whatever she gives me over three-hundred, easy.”

Narrowing his eyes, Han asks, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, kid? You know better.”

Ben slams the milk jug on the counter, splashing a little on his hand in the process. “I know that she didn’t bother speaking to me for almost eighteen years and she’s got a lot to make up for, yes,” Ben says. 

Angrily, he jabs the cap on the milk jug and puts it in the fridge before continuing his rant. “Besides, don’t you think she owes me a little? Not speaking to me for my _whole life_ and then coming out of nowhere to tell me I’m a _prince_?” Ben shuts the fridge with more force than is necessary before meeting his father’s eyes. “Which, while we’re on the topic, you should have told me.”

“Ben —”

“Prince Benjamin, you mean?” Ben interrupts mockingly.

Han sighs. Ben rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s nothing his father can say or do to get out of this. He lied to him — Ben’s entire _family_ lied to him — and now he’s going to have to cram prince lessons on top of everything else in his life like exams, graduation, and choosing a college. Which he knows he still has to do, and _soon_.

“Nobody’s going to make you do it,” Han says finally. “But I know it means a lot to your grandma that you’re trying. And it would mean the world to your mom, too.”

Those are the words that do it. Ben frowns deeply. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“She left you, too.”

Ben’s eyes are dark and serious, menacing, almost, as he locks eyes with Han. “She called. She sent cards and gifts. She didn’t pretend I didn’t exist,” he says through angrily gritted teeth. 

Han frowns and nods. “I know. You’re right.”

“Besides, I haven’t decided if I’m going to take the crown. Don’t get your hopes up, you’re not getting rid of me _that_ quickly,” Ben says.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Han replies. “I don’t _want_ to get rid of you. I’m going to support whatever you choose to do and you _know_ that. You’re my kid, and I care about you. I stuck around. And if you decide you don’t want to take the crown, I’m gonna have your back, no questions asked.”

Though he tries very hard to keep his hard expression, Ben feels the muscles in his face relaxing. He can’t stay mad at his dad when he seems to be the one person who’s there for him unconditionally. Even when they don’t get along or clash because they don’t have much in common, his dad will have his back. Ben takes a deep breath and grabs his things, Oreos in one hand and the glass of milk in the other. 

“Just give it a few weeks. I think your grandma said something about some Independence Day ball? Make your decision by then. And whatever you choose, Ben… that’s fine by me.”

Ben nods, acknowledging his father’s words. He doesn’t know what to say in response, isn’t sure he can set his pride aside enough to thank him.

“Alright, well… I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Ben says, heading towards his room, his Oreos and milk in hand.”‘Night.”

“Goodnight, kid.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben attends more Prince Lessons with his mother, and a very sketchy man comes in to help him look more like a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Meeda for your lovely work beta reading this for me! As always, your help was invaluable. 
> 
> Thank you also to Seulie for the lovely moodboard seen below. Stay tuned for more art and chapters coming to you soon!

As reluctant as Ben may be to allow it, it becomes a habit for him to go to his grandmother’s estate after school. Hux, now preoccupied with debate team, no longer drives him. Instead, Ben walks two blocks from school and meets Obi-Wan and his gaudy limousine. Then, they drive in silence to Ben’s prince lessons.

They study walking the rest of the week, but on Monday Ben enters the estate to be met with the delicious smell of dinner cooking. “Grandma?” he asks, walking into the study. “What’s that —,”

He pauses when he sees the table. “Oh no,” he groans.

“None of that,” says Padme stubbornly. “You haven’t even given it a try yet.” 

“I can eat just fine.”

She smiles. “Then prove it.”

There’s a salad on a plate in front of him, nothing but a quarter of a head of iceberg lettuce, drizzled with dressing and garnished with vegetables. Ben sits at the table and leans in. He resists the urge to stab the whole chunk of lettuce with his fork and instead slices it with his fork. Then, he brings a chunk to his mouth and takes a bite. He manages not to drop any dressing or veggies on the tablecloth.

“That’s a good start,” Padme agrees. “Better than I expected. But there’s more.”

Ben groans.

Padme walks him through the rules of etiquette at the dinner table, including things like which fork to use, how to sit, how to cut food, and what constitutes a normal sized bite. “It’ll take me forever to eat all this food if I take bites that small,” he groans.

“Exactly,” Padme says. “These dinners are meant to take time. There’s one coming up, I’d like you to attend it as practice if you’re ready.”

Ben sighs. “Yeah, dad said something about deciding by the Independence Day ball?”

She nods. “Yes. In about a month, there’s a Nabooian Independence Day ball being hosted here in the city,” she explains. “Before that, we’re having a dinner with just a few diplomats and other important people. I’d like you to attend that as well.”

“Right, but I decide by the Independence Day thing and then whatever I say, goes?”

Again, Padme nods. “Yes, Ben. Whatever you decide that day, we will all respect. You’ll just need to deliver your decision in a speech at that ball.”

“Oh.”

Ben continues to take small bites, though he’s quite hungry so he cuts his potatoes and steak as largely as he can get away with. Padme watches him through critical eyes until finally, she decides to address what seems to be wrong.

“You don’t want to speak publicly?”

Ben shrugs and avoids her gaze. “I don’t _like_ public speaking.”

Padme smiles. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” she asks. He looks up. “Few people do.”

His cold indifference flickers, revealing the fear he feels at the prospect of public speaking. Padme’s own expression softens as she sees the conflict in his eyes. “It doesn’t need to be a long speech,” she reassures him. “We’ll have someone help you write it and everything. You just need to know what you want to tell them.”

Though he seems unsure, he says nothing more about it. Padme rewards him by gifting him with an envelope of money — the cash he’d mentioned needing to fix up his Mustang. The gift puts a smile back on his face and he leaves that evening with a renewed energy. As Ben gathers his bag and stuffs the envelope in it, Obi-Wan stands next to Padme. 

“Do not get your hopes up,” he warns her.

Padme sighs and nods once. “I know.”

“He would be a great king, but needs much training.”

Looking over at Obi-Wan, Padme’s eyes convey a sadness he’s seen in them many times. She looks torn, conflicted… the situation hasn’t gone at all as she’d been hoping. “He can do it,” she says. “We just need to be sure we don’t scare him away.”

Obi-Wan turns his attention back to Ben. “I don’t think we’ll be the ones to do that,” he confesses. “It’s the masses we need to worry about.”

“We just need to keep this private,” Padme replies.

“I’m ready. Can we go now?”

Ben stands at the door, his dark hair a mess and his ratty book bag slung over one shoulder. He looks back at Obi-Wan and Padme, impatiently waiting. Instead of expressing his opinions on keeping the matter private, Obi-Wan nods and says, “Of course, Master Ben. To the garage, or home?”

“The garage,” Ben replies.

Obi-Wan and Padme share one last look before he leaves her in the manor left to contemplate what lay ahead for the royal family of Naboo.

——

Thursday is usually an incredibly normal day. Almost boring, it’s so normal. Ben goes to class, he sits at lunch with Hux and excitedly tells him his Mustang is finally going to be fixed up, and then they finish out the day in all the same classes. Then, Hux drops Ben off at his grandma’s and Prince Training commences as usual.

But this time, when Ben arrives at his grandmother’s place, there’s a sleek black car out front. “What’s happening today?” Hux asks. “And when are you going to tell me what’s going on? You’re here _every day_.”

“We’re making up for lost time,” Ben lies lamely. “And I don’t know what’s going on today.”

Hux leans forward, over the steering wheel, to get a good look at whoever is walking into the home. “He’s in a black suit. Maybe it’s someone important?” Hux suggests.

Ben shrugs. “I don’t think it really matters.”

“Do you want me to wait here in case she doesn’t have time today?” Hux offers.

It’s the closest Hux has gotten to being kind all day — at least in his own way, since the suggestion that she wouldn’t have time for Ben stings a little — but Ben shakes his head no. “It’s fine. If she doesn’t want me around, she’ll get me an Uber home or something. Besides, don’t you have like, debate practice or something?” Ben asks snidely.

“That’s Mondays and Wednesdays only,” Hux corrects. “But fine. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Ben says before climbing awkwardly out of the car.

He trips a little, the car too low down to the ground for his lanky limbs to easily free himself of the confines of the vehicle. Ben steadies himself on the front window though, smirking at the smudges left behind that Hux will undoubtedly grumble about later. Then, he walks inside.

Right away, Holdo is at his side to usher him through to the ballroom. “You’re late,” she admonishes. “Everyone’s waiting.”

“Everyone?”

Moments later, Ben stands in the ballroom before his grandmother and Obi-Wan, a weird vanity-like thing popped up in the middle of the room. It looks like a corner of a salon got transplanted to the middle of his grandmother’s house, and it stands out like a sore thumb. Next to this stand is a man whose clothing would otherwise indicate he was homeless; ratty and dark, his hair as much of a mess as the rest of him. But he wears a cap on his head and some expensive-looking rings on his hands, and apparently he’s passed the necessary security measures to be allowed in.

“Ben, this is DJ. He’s here to help us today,” says Padme calmly.

She sits regally in her pantsuit, dark crimson blazer with black accents to match her trousers. Her hair is in a tight chignon and she looks more powerful than usual, no longer donned in her usual pastel colors. Maybe it’s a power move, since DJ looks so shady.

Ben looks at her blankly. “Help us with what?”

She smiles. He clearly already knows what’s about to happen: the vanity stand gives it all away. “If you’re going to be a prince, you need to look like a prince. You have the stature and the facial features, but your skin and hair are… well, those of a teeanger,” she says kindly. “We’re here to help with that.”

“How much work is this going to be? Because I have to get up early as it is, and I don’t want to have to —”

“Ben,” Padme interrupts. “It will only be an extra five minutes or so. You can do that.”

He’s quiet. At least they’re not asking for hours. But he’s still irritated. He’s been trying very hard to at least not smell bad like most of the boys his age. Ben looks back at DJ, who’s eyeing him up through narrowed eyes. “He’s not going to cut my hair off, is he?” Ben asks, turning back to his grandmother.

“Just a trim,” she says. “Right now, it looks more like your mother’s hair. It’s too long. We’ll trim it up, give you some nice shampoo and conditioner… it’s all harmless, Benjamin.”

He frowns. He hates being called that. His dad only called him Benjamin when he was in trouble. 

Maybe, right now, he is.

He sits down in DJ’s chair, thoroughly shocked at the fact that the man _doesn’t_ smell like a dumpster. The chair gets turned away from the mirror, and it’s time to get started. Somehow, the man is loaded enough to have a portable sink — a hose stretches across the ballroom and it looks absolutely absurd against the parquet flooring — and he washes Ben’s hair. The wash itself takes forever, complete with shampoo, conditioner, and a nice long waiting period with the conditioner in wherein a hot towel is placed over Ben’s face.

It feels ridiculous, but at the same time, good. Very good.

Things only get weirder when two women who were helping DJ carry everything in sit on either side of him and start grooming his fingernails. He’s no monster — he trims them when necessary — but apparently there’s stuff underneath the nails that they have to scrape and scrounge for. He only hisses in pain twice, both times met with fervent apologies. 

Ben is most nervous when DJ pulls out a scissor and starts to cut his hair. Something about the man is… unstable. Untrustworthy. Ben doesn’t like him one bit. But his grandmother chose the man, probably because he styles celebrities or something, so he bites his tongue. He doesn’t, however, hide his displeasure when he sees significantly lengthy pieces of black hair falling to the ground with each _snip!_ of DJ’s shears.

The whole time, Padme and Obi-Wan sit nearby, taking time to observe every so often, between conversations and moments when Padme needs to sign something, brought in by Holdo. In what Ben feels is entirely too long, DJ is finally pulling away the barber’s cloak from his shoulders. 

Ben winces as the man turns the chair so he can get a good look at his reflection.

_His jaw drops._

His hair has twice the volume it used to have, falling in simple waves around his face. It looks dry, something Ben can hardly ever achieve. And not only that, but it looks soft, the kind of soft he wants to comb his hands through — so he does.

Ben slides his hand from his forehead to the back of his head, reveling in the way the strands feel so soft and gentle against his fingers. It’s astonishing. He’s never felt hair like this before, couldn’t fathom his own hair would feel like that. 

Not only that, but leaning forward, his face seems… less red. The acne that appeared several days prior seems smaller, or less irritated. It must have been the lotion one of the women who’d done his nails rubbed on his face as DJ cut his hair. 

“Use this to wash your face in the morning and before bed,” says the woman, offering him a small bottle. “Once you’ve washed your face, rub this on it,” she hands him some lotion. “Make sure you wash your hair daily with the product we give you, and put some mousse in it to make it look like this.”

Ben stares dumbly at everything she’s piled up on the vanity shelf in front of him. Bottles of face wash, lotion, and hair product stare him down, and Ben will feel intimidated when the shock of his new appearance wears off. He doesn’t stop staring at his reflection until Padme approaches him and proudly places a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the mirror.

“You look incredible, Benjamin. Very princely.”

He takes a deep breath, turning his head to the left, and then to the right. Ben has never seen himself looking quite so good before. Like this, he can actually picture a future as someone more than just some dork from Ohio. 

He can picture himself as a prince.

She looks up at DJ and nods politely. “Thank you very much for your help today,” Padme says. “We’ll give you and your staff a moment to remove your things. Ms. Holdo will be sure you’re adequately compensated on your way out, for both your work and your discretion.”

“It was my pleasure,” DJ responds, twirling his hand in the air.

Ben stands from the chair, stretching his lanky limbs after sitting for as long as he had. Padme blessedly says nothing, and they wait off to the side of the ballroom as DJ’s female staff do most of the work gathering things up and removing them from the ballroom. Obi-Wan sees them out with the rest of their things, and then a house staff member makes sure the floor is cleaned off.

“With the bit of time we have left, we’ll be doing some dancing lessons.”

Obi-Wan switches on some music as Ben audibly groans.

“Ben,” Padme says warningly.

He’s quiet, looking down at his feet. “Don’t blame me if you get hurt,” he says. “This isn’t really my thing.”

She smiles. “You can’t be any worse than your grandfather.”

The mention of Ben’s grandfather changes his tune, and he nods and accepts what lay ahead. He stands awkwardly in the center of the ballroom, facing his grandmother. She looks so patient and kind; Ben knows that’ll disappear quickly, given his lack of grace and coordination. 

“Come,” Padme says, holding her arms up.

Ben reaches out, and she guides one hand to her waist. After putting one hand on his shoulder, she rests her free hand in his and slowly coaxes him to start to sway to the music. “Just relax. Pay attention to the beat,” she instructs. “Take very small steps back and forth.”

He does, looking down at his feet and taking great care not to step on his grandmother’s toes. She’s patient with him, moving to the rhythm of the music, encouraging him when they make a full turn with no disasters. “Yes, you’re getting it,” she says. “Now… I want you to stand in place. I’m going to spin.”

“What?” he says dumbly.

Ben stops in place, and Padme releases her hand from his shoulder. She steps out, their arms outstretched, and then gracefully spins. As she does, she reaches her free hand across her body, and Ben barely manages to think fast enough to reach up and take it. “Good,” Padme smiles. “Very good.”

“Really?”

Padme releases the hand he’d just raised to meet hers and spins back out, the reverse of what she’d just done. She then steps back towards him, to return to their dancing. “Yes,” she nods. “If you just relax, you’ll be amazed at the wonderful things you can do.”

“The princely things,” Ben corrects.

Nodding, Padme agrees. “Yes, those.”

He’s frowning deeply, clearly concentrating on something… but she has a sneaky feeling it’s not the dancing. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

Ben shakes his head immediately, standing up a little straighter and trying very hard to pretend like nothing is wrong. “It’s nothing, I just…”

Padme is patient and kind, allowing Ben to formulate his thoughts into coherent sentences in his own time. After a beat, he explains, “I just don’t think I’d be good at this. I don’t really get why you think I _would_. And you’re going through all this trouble but really, I’m probably gonna screw everything up. Really soon.”

She smiles warmly at him and stops their dancing. Both hands on his shoulders, Padme looks up into his eyes — his deep, expressive eyes. He looks sad, confused, all the things she would expect from a boy who’s just found out he’s a prince. There’s uncertainty and hesitation, and Padme knows that a lot of what he’s experiencing is her own fault. But she wouldn’t have taken such great cares to protect him and give him the best childhood and education possible if she didn’t fully believe in his capabilities.

“Ben, your mother… she was an incredible leader. The world lost her too young,” Padme says. “I see her same strength and determination in you. I know you don’t see it yet — I don’t expect anything to change in you overnight — but you have what it takes. I know it. You come from a family of leaders.”

“And a mechanic.”

“Ben, you’re selling yourself short,” she says. “And besides, your father is a good man. He’s taken care of you, hasn’t he?”

Ben frowns. She’s right, of course, but aside from that, and supporting him, and letting him be a normal kid… what has he done? 

“I think we’ve had enough for today,” she says finally. 

It’s clear that Ben’s head is elsewhere. It’s been a long day, too. Padme wonders briefly if she should have saved the dancing lessons for another day. The relief on his face is clear and she feels better knowing she could put him a little at ease. “Why don’t you go out in the foyer and gather your things? I do believe Ms. Holdo has put together a bag of things for you to take with you, left for you by DJ and his staff,” Padme says.

She pats him on the upper arm and gives him one last reassuring smile before allowing him to leave the room. As he does, Padme is startled by the presence of someone else near her. 

“Before I drive him home, may I have a quick dance?”

A faint blush crosses her cheeks, but Padme knows better than to turn him down. Perhaps she doesn’t _want_ to turn him down. 

“Sure,” she says, placing her hand gently in his.

Obi-Wan is the perfect gentleman as he holds her waist and begins to slowly lead the dance. They sway back and forth to the rhythm of the music, Padme slowly drifting closer to him with each step she takes. 

Neither speak when his chin brushes her forehead; they’re standing far too close, closer than is proper for any man to stand next to a widowed queen. But they’re alone, and the moment is still, and for just one moment they can appreciate each other’s companionship and dancing abilities without a single interruption.

Padme steps away, their arms outstretched as she prepares to do a spin. She rotates inwards, their hands clasping on instinct. It’s slow and still and intimate, a moment shared just between the two of them. They remain like this, stepping left, then bringing their feet together, on repeat with the beat of the music. Padme can feel his breath on the shell of her ear… 

She knows she should put a stop to the moment before they go any further, but in a split second, she doesn’t have to worry any longer.

“Okay, Obi-Wan, I’m ready to go!”

Padme and Obi-Wan step apart as though a fire was lit between them. Their eyes snap to the large doorway to the ballroom, but Ben isn’t there.

“I’ll have to teach him not to shout like that,” Padme says, blushing as she steps away from Obi-Wan.

“Yes, indeed,” Obi-Wan agrees.

He, too, looks flustered by the interruption. Before either of them come up with anything else to say, he makes a beeline for the doorway so he can bring Ben home. Though the moment flustered her, Padme finds a deep relief in her grandson’s poor manners, just this once. Had he come to the room like a proper prince, he would have seen them dancing, and that would have been bad.

Relations between a queen and her driver would most certainly not be allowed. Besides, Ben is the priority. Padme clears her throat and smoothes out her clothing, determined to get things back on track with the next lesson. They’re running out of time to turn Ben into the prince she knows he can be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he's had his makeover, Ben has to do the gargantuan task of actually going out in public. His best friend Hux has one reaction, while his peers have another. But at least none lead to injuries like Rey's reaction does. Afterwards, Ben and Han have a heart to heart... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Meeda for your work as a beta reader! And thanks to Polly for the lovely moodboard <3

Ben has known Hux for years — almost a decade now. It’s stupid to be nervous about seeing him, but the fact of the matter is, Ben looks like he’s trying. He looks like one of the popular kids with his new haircut and skin routine. The face wash and moisturizer haven’t even done that much yet, and Ben already sees a difference. And he knows that Hux will, too. 

But just like usual, Hux swings by and picks him up before school, and Ben tries to act casual about it. When he clambers into the car and faces forward, ready to go, he notices that the car is not in drive. 

Hux has switched the car into park, and is staring at Ben, dumbfounded.

“What the _hell_ happened to you!?” Hux exclaims.

Ben looks over nervously to see disgust written plain as day on Hux’s face. Ben frowns and shakes his head. “I got a haircut. It doesn’t matter.”

“This is much more than a haircut, Solo.”

The use of his last name stings. That’s how they’d started out, but somewhere around freshman year, Hux started to call him Ben and that’s when their friendship had really begun. But now, he’s back to the last name, and Ben feels a physical twinge of pain at the sound of it. 

“Alright fine,” he shrugs. “I started cleaning my skin, too. You’ve been telling me to do it for years.”

Unlike Ben, Hux took immaculate care of himself, from the finest skin creams and cleansers and moisturizers, to fancy high-end shampoos, conditioners, and product. He flaunted every cent his father would deign to throw his way, but it didn’t matter. He was too cool and indifferent to really appeal to many of their classmates. Hux and Ben worked because they could at least tolerate each other when nobody else could.

But in this moment, Ben was finding Hux particularly intolerable.

“Can you please start driving? I don’t want to be late.”

Hux sighs and nods. He sends one more strong glare in Ben’s direction before putting the car in drive and backing out of the Solo family driveway. “What happened to telling each other things?” Hux asks.

Ben knows it’s not fair. He knows Hux’s family history, how his parents never told each other things, and most definitely never told him things, leading to all kinds of conflict and trouble and, ultimately, divorce. 

This isn’t nearly as serious, but Ben knows that the two situations equate in Hux’s mind. He doesn’t want to lose one of the only friends he has left — and perhaps the only one who’d stay with him if he were to take the crown — and figures it’s about time that he told the truth.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone, ever? Unless I say you can? Which might be never?”

Hux glances over, his face screwed up in total confusion. “I… suppose? What could be so secret that I’d have to promise something like that?” he asks. After a beat, he asks, “Should I pull over for this?”

“No, just… I’ll tell you when we get to school.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Ben that Hux has a bit more of a lead foot than usual after that, and they end up in the school parking lot five minutes early. Hux looks over expectantly and asks, “Well?”

Ben sighs. “Okay, so… you know how you’ve been taking me to my grandma’s a lot lately?” 

“Yes.”

He hesitates. There’s still time to change his mind and not tell Hux what’s going on. He can still keep this a secret from everyone. 

“Well, she had news for me. About my mom… and her.”

Confused, Hux asks, “Like what? Your mom died months ago, we know this.”

“Yeah,” Ben nods. “And she was Queen of Alderaan. And my grandmother is Queen of Naboo.”

All emotion falls from Hux’s face as he processes what he’s just been told. The pieces start to fall into place in his head. “So, that means…”

Wincing, Ben says, “I’m a prince.”

Hux stares blankly for a moment, before his eyes go wide and he exclaims, “Fuck.”

Nodding, Ben agrees, “Yeah, basically.”

“Prince of Alderaan, or Naboo?” he asks. “Or both?”

Taking a deep breath, Ben launches into what he’d been told by his grandmother, about his mother naming the second family in line to the Alderaanian throne as her successors, leaving Ben the much more prominent and important role of Prince — and future King — of Naboo. He finishes by saying, “And after she told me all of that, my grandma’s been giving me _prince lessons_,” he emphasizes the words and rolls his eyes all at once, “in hopes that I’ll accept the crown.”

“There’s a chance you _won’t_?” Hux asks incredulously.

Shrugging, Ben says, “I didn’t exactly plan for this. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed lately, but I’m not exactly king material.”

Hux is quiet, his gaze falling back to the steering wheel as he processes everything he’s just been told. It’s a lot, Ben knows — he’s had to do the same. 

“So, anyway,” Ben says, trying to end the conversation in hopes that they never, ever come back to it, “I promised my dad and grandma that I’d consider it up until the fancy Independence Day ball in a few weeks. I’m going to keep doing lessons, and this makeover was part of it and I kind of hate it, but whatever…” He takes a deep breath to get back on track. “Now you know. Please don’t tell.”

Hux glances over. For a moment, Ben fears that Hux is going to refuse to keep this a secret. They don’t exactly have the strongest trust — in that, they very rarely do anything that warrants trusting the other because they don’t talk about things like that — but Ben hopes he can trust Hux now.

Finally, he nods, and Ben releases the breath he’d been holding.

“Thank you,” Ben says.

Hux nods again. “I will never have news that epic for you, and I’m a little angry about that, but you’re welcome.”

Ben laughs and steps out of the car, forgetting for a moment how he looks and how people might react. _That’s_ what friends are for, he realizes. He may only have Hux — and Rey, on occasion — but at least it’s something. 

People stare, of course, but Ben looks down at the ground and pretends it’s because he looks the same as always. The stares aren’t out of the ordinary — it’s the comments that will be. Sure enough, when he gets to gym class, Poe has something to say about it.

“Hey look, Ben’s trying to be a pretty boy!” he says, pointing to Ben’s hair and helping himself to feeling a strand of it.

Ben swats Poe’s hand away and moves to the other side of the locker room bench. He changes into his gym clothes, trying to ignore what Poe is saying, with little luck. “What happened? Start using momma’s shampoo and conditioner? So pretty,” he laughs.

Finn laughs right along with him.

“Can you just fuck right off?” Hux says to Poe, annoyed.

Poe, of course, doesn’t fuck off, and spends the entirety of gym class calling Ben _“Pretty Boy”_ when he’s supposed to be focused on playing badminton. Ben can’t even get revenge by hitting him with the birdie, because Poe is frustratingly good at anything requiring even a modicum of hand-eye coordination. Ben would be on equal footing with him if he weren’t so nervous about people thinking he was bad at it. It’s a conundrum, one he’s never quite been able to work past.

Gym class ends though, finally, and Ben put his down and ignores the stares much easier, yet again. After school, since it’s a Friday, he doesn’t have prince lessons. Instead, he can go right to the garage to see Rey and check out his car. 

He walks, since the garage is only about a mile away and Hux has plans with Phasma, the most popular and beautiful girl in school. They’re not friends, per se, but they’re both on the debate team and usually kick more ass than everyone else on the team combined. They’re likely only hanging out for debate team purposes, but Ben wasn’t invited and he’s definitely fine with that.

Ben takes his time walking knowing that by the time he gets there, Rey will already be working. She has a free period at the end of the day, plus rides her bike to and from school, so she gets places faster than his long legs will take him.

The garage is filled with its usual sounds and smells — music blaring from the old radio next to Rey’s workstation with some bad pop radio Ben usually avoids, the smells of oil and grease and metal. He spots his Mustang in the back, Rey lying on the creeper beneath it, working on something. She’s wearing her beige coveralls this time, unlike the blue jeans and white tank top she wears when she’s just fiddling under the hood.

Whatever she’s doing, it’s easy enough that she’s not splitting her attention between that and her surroundings. At the sound of his heavy footsteps — he keeps forgetting to walk the way his grandmother taught him to — she slides the creeper out from beneath the car.

The moment her eyes find him, she sits up. Unfortunately, that’s before she’s actually completely out from underneath the car. Her head smacks against the body of the car with a loud, dull _thud!_ and she shouts in pain almost immediately. “Rey, what the —?”

He kneels down, reaching out for her to help steady her as she rolls out a little further and sits up properly. She tries to stand, but Ben makes her sit on the concrete next to the creeper for a minute. “Jesus, Rey. What the hell? Be careful,” Ben admonishes.

“Sorry, I —”

Rey says nothing more, though, her eyes comical and confused as she looks him over. Ben stops looking at her forehead for injuries when he notices, and instead kneels with great bewilderment at her side.

She doesn’t look hurt or pained — her confusion gives way to something Ben can’t identify. Her pupils are wide and her eyes rake erratically from his hair to his mouth to his eyes to his ears, like she can’t figure out where exactly to look. Concerned, Ben asks, “Are you concussed?”

“No, I—,” Rey shakes her head.

She brings her hand to her forehead and feels around. The skin is red and irritated, but otherwise unharmed. As Rey lowers her hand, she looks at it, smiling and laughing awkwardly as she says, “No blood. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks dumbly.

Rey looks up at him again, still appearing to be as baffled as before. “You changed your hair,” she says finally.

Given she’s making observations, Ben assumes she’s fine, and stands in place before offering her his hand. “Yeah,” he nods. “Not a lot, though.”

Gently, Rey rests her hand in his and he helps her to her feet. She doesn’t wobble or otherwise indicate she’s dizzy, so he definitely feels reassured that she’s fine. Their hands linger for a second too long and he feels a blush creeping into his cheeks as he releases her hand. “Is it really that bad?” he asks critically. “If it’s something you’re gonna hurt yourself over…”

Rey laughs, trying to brush off his insecurity as a joke. “No, that wasn’t it at all!” she says. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know that…” she shakes her head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t being careful! That’ll teach me.” Rey laughs nervously. “Nice haircut.”

The same heat from before manifests in Ben’s face again and he feels it, knows Rey can see it, too. “Thanks,” he says. 

“You look like a regular prince charming,” she jokes. “Next thing you know, we’ll be dancing in a ballroom and my shoe will fall off and you’ll come find me and we’ll live happily ever after.”

Ben laughs nervously; her jibe is a little too on the nose, at least right now. He’s sure he’ll be able to laugh about it someday, but that day is not today. “Maybe. You don’t have to be a prince to be a good dancer,” he argues.

It feels silly, arguing about such a thing when she has no idea. For a brief moment, he contemplates telling her, but decides against it. Their friendship isn’t like that of Ben and Hux — they’re part customer and mechanic, part acquaintances. They’ve never spent time together outside of the garage, not meaningfully anyway. Every once in a while, they cross paths in the hallway at school, but for the most part their lives are fairly separate. Which is strange, considering Ben feels such a profound connection to her, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Really?” Rey asks. She hesitates just slightly before she says, “Prove it.”

“Alright.”

Ben stands and holds out his hand. The Taylor Swift bopping in the background is definitely not good enough for what they’re about to do, but he can work with what they’ve got, assuming Rey takes him up on the dare, that is. He’s actually a little surprised when she obliges, putting her hand in his and allowing him to take the lead. 

He knows this is stupid, that her boss could walk in at any minute, but he’s the competition’s son, so he can get away with a lot that other customers can’t. Besides, he’s got a sneaky feeling that Rey’s boss will let her get away with almost anything. On the plus side, he can tell his grandmother that he at least practiced _something_ over the weekend. It’s unlikely that anything he eats that weekend will be the kind of thing he’ll need to sit at the table with a knife and fork for, so dancing it is.

Rey is a pretty good dancer, all things considered. Their toes bump once, but they move past it pretty easily. Ben ignores the thumping of his heart in his chest — this is Rey, his _friend_ — besides, she’s probably just looking at him with wide eyes because she hit her head earlier. “You know, if you’re this good of a dancer, maybe I should take you to homecoming with me,” he blurts out.

He’s only half kidding — he knows Rey would look great dressed up, but also that she doesn’t usually go to school things like that. It’s worth a try, though. It’d be nice not to go alone, if he decides to go at all. They’d have fun. They could dance, at least.

Rey’s whole face turns red and she bites her lip. Ben isn’t sure if that’s a good sign or a bad sign, because no girl has ever looked at him like that before. He finds himself dreading what she says no matter what, because either he’s being rejected, or he’s going to have to go to the dance. At this point, he’s not sure which is worse.

“I actually — I can’t go,” she responds. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could, but —”

“No, it’s okay,” Ben replies.

Someone behind Ben clears their throat and Rey immediately steps back as though Ben is on fire. She’s crimson with embarrassment and Ben is about to leave to spare himself any further humiliation when she speaks up.

“We can watch a movie though, if you want.”

He turns back to face her, confused. “You can’t go to the homecoming dance but you’re free to watch a movie?” he asks.

Rey nods. “I can’t — dances are expensive for girls, and I just don’t — I’m saving up, you see. I want to — college, and all that…” she trails off, clearly embarrassed.

“Oh. _Oh,_” Ben says, realization dawning on him as she stammers through half an explanation. “That’s fine, yeah. I just thought — but if you’re not —”

“No, you’re great —” 

“Okay then, yeah,” Ben nods. It’s the strangest, most awkward conversation they’ve ever had. “We can watch a movie. My place?”

Rey nods enthusiastically. “Please.”

He smiles. “Great. That’s — yeah. I can pick you up here? We can walk over together?” he suggests.

“Since I’ve never been to your house, that’d be nice,” Rey responds.

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

They stare at each other for a moment, until Rey’s boss gruffly interjects, “That Mustang isn’t gonna fix itself. Get outta here, Solo, if you want to see that car in this millennium.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry,” Ben stammers. “Going.”

Rey smiles apologetically. “Bye.”

He waves and rushes out of the garage, a little freaked out that he’s managed to find the exact threshold of just how much of his presence Rey’s boss will allow.

At home, Han is sitting in the living room on the recliner, like usual. He must be freshly home from a hard day at work, because there’s still condensation on his can of Coors Light, and the place smells like pizza but there’s no food in Han’s lap. “Hey kid,” he calls from where he’s seated in front of the TV.

Ben kicks off his shoes in the foyer and tosses his backpack haphazardly to the floor by the stairs. He’ll carry it up to his room later. “Hey, Dad,” he replies, wandering stocking-footed into the living room.

He takes a seat on the sofa, glancing to the TV only to find that it’s some inane sports game that will probably put him to sleep. “Can we watch something else?” Ben begs.

Han glances at his son, opening his mouth like he’s going to protest. Instead of that, though, Han just switches the TV off and says, “We can talk.”

Ben groans in frustration.

Thankfully, their conversation is interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer. Han rises from his chair with a slow grunt and disappears to the kitchen. While he’s gone, Ben takes the liberty of stealing the TV remote and channel surfing. He finds nothing good to watch, of course — his dad hates Game of Thrones, so Ben watches pirated episodes on his laptop instead, and Ben hates the dumb pawn shop reality show that Han usually opts for if there’s no game on. Bored with his options, Ben switches the TV off again and is greeted a moment later by his father reentering the room with two plates. Ben takes one and Han keeps the other, each of them holding a plate of four slices of pizza.

It won’t fill Ben up — he and his dad can each eat a frozen pizza on their own, and Ben’s positive there’s a half of each pizza left on the stove because he’s got both pepperoni and supreme on his plate — but it’ll do for now. As they chow down on their food, Ben forgets for one blissful moment what lays ahead. 

But then he realizes that, as a prince, he probably won’t be able to eat frozen pizza, or his favorite pizza rolls, or any of the Doritos and Mountain Dew flavors he likes to snack on when he’s gaming. Hell, he probably won’t even be able to play video games. 

Is that a life he really wants to live?

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

Of all the times for his father to be totally attentive and able to pick up on his weird moods, Ben grumbles that Han has chosen this moment. He’d rather just panic a little inside and then move on, but his dad is going to make him talk about it.

“Just trying to figure out what to do, I guess,” Ben confesses.

He learned years ago that it’s not worth it, trying not to talk about things with his dad. Han always finds a way to worm it out of him. They may not have a lot in common, but at least Han can read him and understand his moods.

Han nods. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, your grandma says you’re doing really good in your lessons. She thinks you’re gonna be ready for the state dinner next weekend,” he says.

Ben looks at him blankly. “She said that? I didn’t know you two talked.”

“Occasionally,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know she thinks you’re doing well. And this new look thing really works for you. You look grown up.”

Ben scrunches his face up at his father in slight confusion and disgust. “This is weird,” he says.

“What? Me complimenting you? Telling you what your grandma thinks?”

“Yes,” Ben says. “It’s _very_ weird.”

Han chuckles. “Alright. Well, deal with it. You’ll be getting a lot more compliments from a lot more people if you decide to take the crown.”

Ben pauses, pizza halfway to his mouth.

“Stop overthinking,” Han barks.

Rolling his eyes, Ben takes another bite of pizza, taking his father’s advice for once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, news spreads of Ben's royal blood. Then, he spends a day out with his grandmother, and they bond over memories of his grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Meeda for beta reading, and to Caitlin for the moodboard!

A weekend free of prince lessons or princely things is exactly what Ben needs. When he wakes up on Monday morning, he actually has the energy to put a dollop of mousse in the palm of his hand and comb it through his hair. His skin looks clearer, and he tries to stand a little bit taller.

Well, maybe not that last part.

Hux picks him up, like usual, and together they drive to school. Hux hasn’t brought up the prince thing since Ben told him about it, and Ben’s incredibly grateful for that. He didn’t want their friendship to change because of it, and he definitely doesn’t like talking about it, either. 

But when they pull into the parking lot, Ben is filled with dread.

He thinks he’s going to have to talk about it.

Out front, there are dozens of reporters, a few cameras already flashing in the pit of boom mics, video cameras, and photo cameras with massive zoom lenses. Up on the front steps of the school, Ben can faintly see Poe and Finn talking to one in particular. “Hux…”

“Yeah, I see them.”

Ben takes a deep breath and tries to stay calm. “Do you think we can go around back?”

Hux shakes his head. “The Fine Arts doors don’t open until first bell.”

Wincing, Ben asks, “So we have to go in the front? Through all that?”

The car is silent save for the soft sounds of music in the background of Hux’s car. After a beat, Hux says, “Unfortunately… yes.”

“Can I go home?”

“Probably not,” Hux says. “Besides, I can’t be late. You know my dad would never allow that.”

Ben shakes his head and looks down at his hands in his lap. This isn’t what he wanted — he doesn’t know how people found out. 

“Did you tell?”

“Fuck no,” Hux says immediately. “Why would I do that? Who would I even tell?”

After a beat, Ben says, “Sorry. I know.”

Hux looks around at the crowd and then back to Ben. He’s more annoyed than anything, that they have to deal with this bright and early on a Monday morning, but it’s the hand they were dealt.

“Look, just… I don’t know, look at your phone the whole time,” Hux suggests lamely. “Or we walk really fast. It’ll be fine.”

“They’re going to mob me,” Ben says. He feels sick to his stomach.

He knows there’s nothing they can do now though except walk right into that crowd.

Ben keeps his head down and his shoulders slumped low as he approaches the school. Hux flanks Ben’s left side fiercely, an unprecedented show of protection in their friendship. 

“That’s him!”

Ben really, really hates Poe Dameron.

In an instant, flash bulbs blind Ben. His ears ring with shouting and the clicks of camera shutters. He hears Poe tell a reporter they’re best friends. Students are laughing. Teachers are shouting. Expletives burst forth from Hux’s mouth.

Ben doesn’t really register anything coherently again until he’s seated in the principal’s office, his grandmother to his right and Han to his left, Obi-Wan guarding the door. The windows are covered with paper, blocking out the stares of students. The paparazzi may still be outside. Ben feels sick at the thought.

“We’re very sorry for the way you were surrounded this morning, Ben,” says their school principal, a petite but tough looking woman, Ms. D’Acy.

“It is completely unacceptable,” says Padme. “Did no teachers see the crowd and wonder what was happening?”

Ms. D’Acy shakes her head. “If only I could read the minds of my teachers,” she says. “All I can do now is ensure it does not happen again.”

Padme nods. “That would be greatly appreciated. My grandson would just like to finish high school as normally as possible.”

“Yes, we sincerely apologize, Prince Benjamin.”

It’s the first time he’s heard his name said in such a way. It bothers him a little. He hasn’t committed to anything yet. 

“Which he hasn’t accepted yet,” says Han, wagging his finger. “He could turn it down right now if he wanted, after what happened today.”

Ben has never been more grateful for his father. 

It takes him a moment, but he realizes that they’re all watching him, to see what he says.

“I appreciate the out,” he says slowly, choosing each word carefully. “But I gave my word that I’d wait to make a decision until the Independence Day ball.”

Padme sits back in her seat, pleased. “That was a very diplomatic answer,” she says. “Vague, yet satisfying.”

Ben says nothing, waiting for the adults to decide what comes next. He’s exhausted, and he’s missing first period. “I think for now, what’s best is if Obi-Wan personally escorts Ben to and from school. We want to protect him. I can also share a few officers from the Nabooian Royal Guard, they can assist your staff in protecting the perimeter of the school from those horrible paparazzi.”

Ben slouches in his chair, arms crossed.

“That is an acceptable plan,” Ms. D’Acy agrees. “Ben, I will grant you an excused absence today, if you would like to go home. This was a traumatic experience for you.”

Ben looks to Han, who just makes a face and shrugs. “You’re almost an adult,” he says. “You choose.”

Nodding, Ben says, “Thank you. Yes. I’d rather not be here today.”

“Of course,” Ms. D’Acy agrees. “See you tomorrow. Apologies, again, for all the trouble.”

The three of them rise from their chairs, Padme and Han leaving the room first. Thankfully, class is in session so Ben doesn’t have to see any of his peers as he walks out of the building. Obi-Wan walks at his side, the two of them keeping a safe distance from Han and Padme.

“You handled that wonderfully, all things considered.”

Ben glances over, face scrunched up in confusion. “Really? Didn’t I panic?”

Obi-Wan smiles knowingly. “It doesn’t matter. When you sat in her office, you kept calm. You were diplomatic.”

“You’re just saying that so I accept the crown.”

“Not true,” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “It’s the truth. But, for what it’s worth, your grandmother thinks you can do it.”

“I can’t,” Ben sighs. “I’ll screw up just as bad at the dinner. Maybe more. I’m not ready.”

“Well, believe it or not, she thinks you are,” he nods to Padme, a few strides ahead of them. “And I do, too.”

Ben frowns and looks down at the ground as he walks out of the school. He’ll go to the dinner, of course, but he doesn’t feel good about it. But he’s tried to learn, and it will be an opportunity to show Padme that he’s maybe not the prince she thinks he is. 

Out on the front steps of the school, Padme turns and looks behind her. “Ben, would you like to come with me? Perhaps we can get lunch in a bit?”

Again, Ben’s father looks totally indifferent, probably ready to get back to the shop so he can finish working on whatever cars came in that day. Having to leave the garage to come to school probably set him back — he’s got staff, but not that many. “Sure,” Ben nods. “You can go back to work, Dad. See you at home later.”

“We’ll get him home safe and sound,” Padme says warmly, with a smile.

Han raises an eyebrow at Ben, sensing he’s saying what he thinks he should say rather than what he really wants to do, but Ben just nods, and Han doesn’t argue with him. “See you at home, kid,” says Han, clapping Ben on the shoulder before heading off to his old pickup truck.

Ben watches him leave, grateful that Padme and Obi-Wan aren’t rushing Ben along. He also realizes in that moment that all the paparazzi are gone. They’re alone.

The silence feels deafening.

“So… do you have something else to drive other than a limo? If he’s going to be driving me everywhere, I’d rather not call attention to myself,” Ben says.

“That is not how we do things here, Ben,” says Padme with a coy smile. “But you’re bold to ask.”

Together they finish descending the front stairs of the building and all walk together towards the big black limo parked out front. It looks ridiculous, and Ben just knows that people are going to stare. “Showing up in _that_ every day is not going to make people think I’m normal,” Ben argues. “If you want me to have a normal end to high school, Obi-Wan needs to drive a car. And without those flags on it, too.”

Padme opens her mouth to argue, but Ben is incredibly grateful when Obi-Wan speaks up. “He has a point, Your Majesty,” he says. “We do want things to be as normal as possible for him.”

She frowns, thinking it over. “I’ll have to contact Holdo, see what we can do. I see no reason why we can’t rent something for the duration of our stay. It’s only three more weeks. Which reminds me.” She turns to Ben and says, “This Friday is the State Dinner. Two weeks from that is the Independence Day Ball.”

“And between those two is Homecoming,” says Ben. “I hate this month.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, and Padme looks amused. “Well, how about for today, we don’t worry about being a queen and prince, yes? Why don’t we experience the city together.”

“Really? _Here_?” Ben asks critically. “This is _Ohio_.”

“Yes, Columbus, the capital city,” Padme corrects. “Every city, no matter what size, is unique in some ways. As a prince, you will often travel to small places you have never heard of — some in Naboo and others outside of it — and you will have to make each and every citizen in those small towns feel as though you care deeply for their home and for them.”

Ben huffs. “What happened to not being a prince for a day?”

Padme nods as Obi-Wan opens the door to the limo for them. “You’re right, my apologies.”

She gestures to Ben to get in and slide across the seat, and he does. His grandmother takes a seat next to him and they ride in silence. Ben’s mind is still running a mile a minute, thinking over how terrifying the morning had been. He doesn’t know where Hux went, if he was mobbed by everyone or pushed out of the way — Ben’s mind goes blank when he tries to think about it.

He pulls out his phone, very nearly smiling when he sees that Rey sent him a text:

**Your baby’s ready to go. Come visit and we’ll get you going :)**

But his concern for his friend and his generally gloomy mood doesn’t even have him begging Padme to take him to the garage to get his car. Rey isn’t even there, and what’s the fun in picking it up if Rey isn’t there to show him all the great things she did to it? 

He feels a little better, though, knowing he gets to see her later.

Ben sends a text message to Hux to make sure he’s alright, and then asks, “So, where are we going?”

“I assumed you would want to go home to change into something other than your school uniform before we decide anything else,” Obi-Wan says from the driver’s seat.

“That is a good plan,” Padme agrees. She looks to Ben. “I’d like to see how you dress when you don’t need a uniform.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ben asks dryly, “You're not going to make me buy a whole new wardrobe are you?”

“I can’t make any promises what the future holds,” Padme says. “If you choose to assume your title and place on the throne, you will need to dress in a certain way. But we can take your personal tastes into account, so all is not lost. Think of it as a more grown up version of what you currently wear.”

Ben turns to look out the window, watching as the streets and trees pass them by on their way to his house. 

“What would _you_ like to do today, Ben?”

He sits up and glances over at his grandmother, shocked by the question. “What?”

Padme smiles; her wrinkles don’t quite match up with the creases from her smile — had she not smiled much in her life? “All the time we have spent together so far has been regarding this prince business,” Padme says. “Instead of that, I’m asking what you would like to do.”

“Oh.”

Ben looks out the window lamely. “I mean, I guess there’s this bookstore Dad takes me to, on occasion, downtown,” he says. “There’s a stationery store not far from there; they have decent notebooks. I’ve always wanted a Moleskine or something like that. And like, the best taco truck always hangs out in that area.”

Padme smiles and nods. “There you have it. After you change, we’ll visit those places.”

He looks disbelievingly at Padme. Unbeknownst to both passengers, Obi-Wan does, too. “You want to go to a _taco truck_?”

“Yes,” Padme says, looking offended that he’d doubt her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re a queen,” Ben says.

“So? You think royals can’t eat good food?” she argues. “They get the best food, tasting the authentic cuisines of every place they visit.”

Ben is quiet, put in his place. They arrive at his house a moment later, and Obi-Wan and Padme follow him inside. In the foyer, they gaze about appraisingly at the modest home. It’s just Ben and Han — and it always has been — so they didn’t need much. Living room, kitchen, bathroom on the main level, two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Ben has a fair amount of privacy, as does Han, and another guest has never stayed overnight. 

Not even Hux.

They keep their home private, aside from a few daytime visitors, and it suits them. Ben changes into black skinny jeans, some ratty black Vans, and a Joy Division tee. His hair keeps its styling though, and he wonders at his reflection for a moment. His skin is already getting clearer, and his hair is miraculously not greasy.

Even if he doesn’t accept the crown, at least he looks halfway decent now, he thinks to himself. 

Downstairs, Padme looks him over, and he’s relieved when she says nothing. Ben grabs his black cardigan out of the foyer closet and then they go back out to the car. His odd neighbor, a man who looks a little bit like a fish, is staring at the limo out front. “Hi, Mr. Ackbar,” Ben waves to the man.

Startled that he’d been caught staring, Mr. Ackbar steps backward from the fence, waving and mumbling under his breath as he returns to his front porch.

That afternoon is one of the better days Ben has in quite a while. Though he can’t manage to talk Padme into buying him a really nice Moleskine notebook, he _does_ get her to buy him some nice pens. He’ll definitely use to hand-write his fiction for Maz’s class later. 

Ben is shocked at how gracefully Padme eats her street tacos — he ends up with sour cream and guac all the way down the front of his shirt, which just looks wrong, but he won’t say _that_ in front of his grandmother. He buttons up his cardigan and calls it a day, and nobody looks at him strangely.

As they’re walking down the street back towards the limo, Ben grumping about it being too sunny outside, Padme smiles and looks over at him with a sadness in her eyes that he hasn’t seen before.

“You’re so much like your grandfather sometimes,” she says wistfully.

Ben pauses, stepping out of the way of passersby. Padme follows, the two of them stopping outside what appears to be a small bakery. He couldn’t eat another bite, but at least they’re not stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I am?” he asks.

“Yes,” Padme nods, smiling at the memory. “He was grumpy about the most random things, just like you.”

Ben hums. He looks up at the sky, but why? It’s not as though his grandfather is up there watching him. His grandfather wouldn’t even know what he looks like or who he is… they never met, and they never will. Ben tries to ignore the ache in his chest, and scowls as he looks back down at the ground.

“He was also very tall and strong, like you.” Gently, she reaches up to touch Ben’s now-soft hair. “You’ve inherited his hair. Your mother’s was beautiful, too.”

Slowly, Ben meets his grandmother’s gaze. “And more important than all of that, he was an excellent leader, but started just as you are. He was barely a man when I met him, working as a repairman. He had no formal training. Being royal wasn’t in his blood. But he worked hard — and complained while he did it, also just like you — and he was an excellent leader. He died far too soon.”

Frowning, Ben asks, “How did he die?”

“A boating accident,” Padme says somberly. “There was a terrible, _terrible_ fire. He —”

“Do you have pictures?” Ben interrupts, sensing it was a difficult question for her.

Padme takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes. I’ll pull some to show you. They must be around the estate somewhere,” she says.

As she busies herself with straightening her dress and regaining her composure, Ben gives her a moment by taking long strides back towards the limo. The moment got too emotional, too raw. He didn’t know how to handle his grandmother’s deep show of emotion, or what to say to the story she’d told.

But — and this was likely all according to her plan, he knew — he couldn’t stop thinking about his grandfather. About how he’d stepped up and filled the shoes of a royal even though he knew nothing about it. How he’d faced the world, no doubt feeling like a pretender, like he didn’t truly belong, all to stand by Padme’s side.

If his grandfather could do it, Ben knew that he could, too.

He owed it to the man to try.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the state dinner. Ben puts on his best suit and tries to recall everything his grandmother taught him. Unfortunately for him, the people in line for the throne if he abdicates are more than happy to make it into a competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to Meeda for being a lovely beta! And thank you to Liz for the moodboard!

Several more days of intense prince lessons commence, until Ben finds himself standing in front of a massive, tri-fold mirror. He can’t believe what he looks like, from the front or either side. He’s on a box, a man with a tape measure draped around his shoulders flitting back and forth doing last minute pinning adjusting. He requires very few, though, as the tailor has worked on it already. Now, Ben stands in a perfectly tailored, bespoke suit. 

And he looks _good_.

He’s decided to go to the state dinner, and both Obi-Wan and his grandmother are in full support of it. Ben looks unsure, but finds a modicum of comfort in the way his grandmother stands just off to the side behind him, smiling proudly. 

He’s never seen anyone smile at him quite so proudly.

Obi-Wan wears a smart tailcoat, and Padme wears a beautiful pale blue gown. Her hair is up in an elegant chignon, and a crown adorns her head. Ben has already combed mousse through his hair with his fingers — he’s actually gotten quite good at that, now that he’s done it every day — but there’s one more thing they need to do before the state dinner begins.

“Have a seat, Ben,” she says, gesturing to one of the armchairs in the spare room where they’ve been preparing him for the dinner.

Downstairs, he can already hear the beginnings of the dinner. Cars keep driving past outside, delivering guests, and the string quartet’s music floats through the whole house. Their melody is upbeat, but reminds him of just how serious it is. It’s classical music, something he imagines people last listened to when the Titanic was going down, but it somehow feels right at place here, even though he doesn’t. 

Slowly, Ben lowers himself into the seat. Padme opens a gilded box that had been clasped shut on the countertop. Inside lay a crown, and Ben feels sick.

“I don’t think —”

“_Yes_, Ben,” Padme interrupts. 

Very slowly, she raises the crown from the velvet padding it had lain on in the box. Then, she raises it above his head and meets his gaze in the mirror. “Until you renounce the crown, you are the prince. You wear the crown at formal gatherings.”

He takes a deep breath and watches as his grandmother lowers the crown to his head. 

It doesn’t feel as heavy as he’d expected. It’s enough to remind him that it’s there, and that this is his newfound lot in life. But it’s not so much that it feels unbearable or impossible.

It fits him perfectly.

Padme smiles in satisfaction as she watches Ben visibly relax after a moment. Her hands rest on his shoulders and the swell of pride she feels couldn’t possibly be summarized into words. Not even a woman as eloquent as she has such a skill. 

“You look incredible,” she says. “Very princely, indeed.”

Ben’s lips purse as he swallows past a lump in his throat. When he turns to look at the door, the crown doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off, and Obi-Wan looks as pleased as Padme. “You are ready,” he says.

Though he feels completely unprepared, Ben nods and stands. Padme looks so proud, she could cry. “I will go downstairs first, and I will introduce you to your people for the very first time,” Padme instructs.

Ben winces, but nods again.

This is it.

He waits at the top of the stairs alone, listening as the click of Padme’s shoes descends the stairs. The crowd quiets, and he feels butterflies in his stomach as she speaks.

“It is my great honor to present to you this evening my grandson. Please welcome Prince Benjamin Naberrie Skywalker Solo, Prince of Naboo.”

To the sound of great, reverent applause, Ben begins to descend the stairs. He holds the railing and takes his time, step-by-step, just as he’d been taught. He keeps his expression neutral and ignores the flashes of camera bulbs. They’re less intrusive this time, and he feels safe in front of these photographers — they were hired by his grandmother and they can be trusted.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, she smiles proudly at him, her eyes conveying all the praise she’s not allowed to utter to him in public. He offers his arm, just like they’d practiced. Together they walk through to the dining room and take their seats. Ben helps his grandmother sit first, and then sits to her right. Next to him are the Count and Countess Netal, whom he recently learned are the next in line for the throne, should Ben choose to abdicate his place in line.

It’s greatly intimidating, especially as they both look at him critically, down their noses, as though assessing his abilities and deciding whether or not to stage any sort of coup or rebellion. It wouldn’t be unheard of, though it hasn’t happened in Naboo for nearly a century. 

“Do you find yourself well educated on the history of Naboo?” asks Count Netal, in a bored sort of drawl that tells Ben he already knows the answer.

_Keep calm. Take a deep breath. Choose your words. Speak._

His grandmother’s instructions play over and over in his head. It’s difficult, but Ben does just that, the hardest being _keep calm_, of course. 

“I am educating myself,” Ben says.

The words come out a little more defensively than they should; he notices the warning look from his grandmother and adds to the Count, “Do you have any books to recommend?”

Countess Netal scoffs. “You should have them already, shouldn’t you? You _are_ the Crown Prince.”

Ben breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. He reaches for his glass of sparkling grape juice — not wine, as everyone else is drinking — and takes a sip as the Count decides to change the subject.

“Tell me, Prince Benjamin, what are your thoughts on our trade with Alderaan? You no doubt understand it’s a tricky alliance, given the passing of your mother. Without her there, and the familial bonds… what purpose do we have to share our fine linens at all?” asks Count Netal. “Surely we’re better off sharing with Chandrila instead?”

A jolt of anger at the mention of his mother shoots through him, and as Ben sets down his glass on the table, the stem breaks with the impact. Thankfully, he withdraws his hand in time, but the glass falls to pieces, spilling juice everywhere. He hears the Netals snickering, and he can see the disappointment on his grandmother’s face, but they’re talking about his _mother_. Ben may not have known her, but he’s learned of all the things she’s done for her people. She was a good woman, even if she wasn’t there for him.

“The trade with Alderaan has been successful,” Ben says through gritted teeth.

Padme shoots him a warning look. _Keep calm. Take a deep breath. Choose your words. Speak._ Though still tense, Ben pulls it together enough to respond as normally as possible, “I believe it would be unwise to suddenly cease trade deals, especially with a country in mourning. It will be better for both Naboo and Alderaan if we continue trade as is.”

“So, you see the trade ending in the long-term, then?” the Count asks, amusement on his face.

He knows he’s pressing Ben’s buttons and getting a rise out of him. Ben’s whole face is red and angry now, completely revealing his rising anger to the rest of the table. 

The first course arrives, and Ben happily consumes his soup in peace. It’s French onion, the most difficult soup to consume in a dignified fashion, and he sends a glare his grandmother’s way. Things are hard enough as it is, with the Netals clearly trying to frustrate him to the point of choosing not to take the crown. He doesn’t need a challenging menu to make things even worse. 

Thankfully, as the meal commences, Padme tries diligently to get Ben conversing with others at the table. He talks extensively with the Lars family of Tatooine, who convey their condolences at the loss of his uncle, Luke. He was good to their family, handing off the crown to them when he abdicated just a few weeks before his passing.

Ben accepts their condolences but doesn’t understand what more to do; he’d been vaguely aware of an Uncle Luke, but never knew him. Looking to his grandmother, Ben sees the sadness in her eyes. 

Ben is the last living descendant of her family. She’s had to live through the deaths of her husband and children. Ben is her last hope at continuing the family legacy.

Suddenly, the crown on his head feels a little heavier.

Then, the dessert course is delivered: a strawberry cheesecake, one of Ben’s least favorite desserts in the world. The cream cheese is sour — he’s always hated the taste, no matter what kind of cake it was on. Making an entire dessert based around it has always seemed like the worst idea imaginable to him. Meanwhile, his father buys the “variety flavor” cheesecake from the local Kroger and eats it for dessert for days on end.

Ben looks pleadingly at his grandmother, but she just pointedly picks up the last fork remaining at her place setting and takes a bite, nodding to him to do the same.

They hadn’t discussed etiquette for when he absolutely despises the food they’ve served him. “Do you have a problem with the dessert?” Countess Netal asks, noticing how Ben has been angrily staring his down while everyone else has tucked in to eat.

Padme smiles politely. “Of course he doesn’t. We appreciate your fine suggestion for dessert, Countess.”

She again looks at Ben and more sternly nods and looks down at his utensils.

Slowly, he picks up his fork and stabs it into the cheesecake. He’s already gagging, and the food isn’t even to his mouth yet. But to be polite to the family who’s done nothing but make his life miserable all evening, he’s going to have to eat it. _The whole slice._

With each passing bite, Ben’s mood goes further and further downhill, until he’s as sour as his dessert. Halfway through choking back his slice, Count Netal asks, “So, Benjamin, I’m curious what you think of the Royal Palace? Any opinions on the East Wing?”

Ben freezes in place. The East Wing? What on earth would he have to say about the East Wing? He looks to his grandmother, but Padme is deep in a conversation with the Lars family again, leaving him all alone.

“Oh dear, you _have_ been to the palace, haven’t you?” Countess Netal leans forward to look past her husband at Ben. 

Ben’s fork clatters to the dessert plate and he huffs. “No, I have not,” he’s nearly speaking through gritted teeth, his anger more than he can effectively hold back.

_Keep calm. Take a deep breath. Choose your words. Speak._

It’s too late. He’s too upset, too angry. There’s no way on earth he’s going to be able to rein in his anger now. 

“I haven’t been to the palace because I’m trying to finish my education,” he says.

The Countess laughs lazily as the Count says, “Well, that’s no excuse, boy. You’re a Nabooian prince, your duty is to country first, everything else second.”

“An education is important for a strong leader,” Ben argues.

“You have the Senate for that,” the Count replies coolly. “Your duty is to be present in our country. A symbol of optimism and strength.”

Ben’s scowl grows, but it’s too late. There’s nothing he can do or say now that is going to repair the damage done. He’s revealed that he’s never been to Naboo, nor has he visited the palace. He has no opinions on the East Wing or anything else for that matter. And apparently, he’s completely misunderstood his duty to his country and his people.

Laughing in a way that can only be described as _evil_, the Countess says, “Oh, darling boy, it’s best you just give up now. The country will be much better off without you.”

Angrily, Ben stands. He knocks over his plate of half-eaten cheesecake in the process, drawing the attention of all the guests at the dinner, as well as his grandmother. Ben’s face contorts in an anger Padme has never seen before, but instead of speaking, Ben shoves his chair backwards and knocks it over. 

He takes long strides to get away from the table, pushing past Obi-Wan and Holdo to get upstairs and away from the crowd as fast as possible. Obi-Wan calls out for him, but Ben doesn’t listen. 

Ben doesn’t stop moving until he gets all the way up to the room he’d been using to get ready. He whips the crown off of his head and tosses it onto the bed. While he’d rather toss it across the room like a frisbee, he knows the crown is an ancient relic, something he’d be a fool to destroy. Instead, he leaves it to lay haphazardly on his bed.

He was a fool to think he could do this. That he’d be good enough to be a prince. Angrily, he sits down on the edge of the bed, the crown sliding down the soft blankets to tap him in the back. Ben ignores it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He combs his hands through his hair and down his face, trying desperately to calm down.

When he looks up, the painted portrait of his grandfather faces him. Ben sighs.

“Show me. Give me a sign,” he pleads with a painting.

He needs something, _anything_, to reassure him at this point. 

“Grandfather… how am I supposed to do this? I can’t be a prince.”

Desperately, as he hears someone climbing the stairs, no doubt to scold him, he begs.

“Please, help me.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben triple books himself the night of the Homecoming dance, and may or may not make the wrong decision about who to spend time with. Afterwards, he seeks out comfort from the only person he can -- his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Meeda for beta reading this, and to Lauren for the lovely moodboard!

After significantly less scolding than he’d been expecting, Ben was allowed to change out of his suit and pack up the crown, his obligations at the State Dinner now fulfilled. Padme had said, of course, that Ben needed to learn to better control his temper, but at the same time, the Netals had been provoking him. She hadn’t realized, of course — not fully, anyway — but Obi-Wan came to his defense.

Ben slept over at his grandmother’s that night, too exhausted to go home or to ask Obi-Wan to drive him. Besides, he’d seen the way Obi-Wan and his grandmother were talking that night after she gathered his crown from him. They were bowing their heads close together in the hallways and whispering things he couldn’t make out. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t meant to be privy to it — and he was okay with that.

A whole weekend of hanging out at home did little to refresh him. When Ben walks into school with Hux on Monday, he feels like an alien. It’s been a full week since the paparazzi disaster, but Ben knows all eyes are on him. Students don’t make it a secret, the way they stare at him and watch him walk up and down the hallways — they expect him to walk a certain way or act a certain way, but it’s the same old him from before that’ll be in class with them tomorrow.

He and Hux stop at his locker first. Ben adjusts the collar of his polo shirt — he hates the uniforms, because he’s always hated the collars, but his mom’s one wish was that Ben attend this private school so he’s not going to fight it. Sighing, he says, “I wish they’d put their phones away.”

Lazily, he grabs his books from his bag and shoves them on the top shelf. He leaves a few behind, the ones he’ll need for class that morning, and then slams his locker shut. “I can tell they’re taking pictures of me. I know they’re going online. And honestly, me being a prince is none of their business,” he grumbles.

“I agree,” Hux responds, the two of them now walking down the corridor to his locker. “But they’re neanderthals and you are the closest they will come to a brush with fame or glory, _ever_.”

“Well, that’s a grim thought for them,” Ben mutters.

“Indeed.”

They stop at Hux’s locker and, with far more grace than Ben, he stacks his books neatly on the shelf and gathers what he needs for his first half of the day. “I just feel like I always have to be _on_,” Ben sighs. “I don’t want to be.”

“You’re going to have to be,” Hux argues.

“Yeah, but not yet,” Ben says. “I haven’t even said I’ll do it yet.”

Hux slings his bag over his shoulder and looks to Ben. Where Ben feels out of place in their school, Hux fits right in. He wears fancy dress clothes like their uniform polos and trousers and makes it look _good_. Ben outgrows his pants more often than Han can remember to buy them, resulting in pant legs that no longer touch his boots.

“Well, you won’t have to be on this weekend, at least,” Hux says as they walk to class. “You still up for the LAN party at my house on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Ben nods. “Who else is coming?”

“It’ll be you, me, and Mitaka. Not a ton of people,” Hux responds. “And my father will be gone so we’ll actually have some peace and quiet.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “And pizza?”

“_Fuck_ yes, we’ll have pizza,” Hux replies, looking quite pleased at the prospect.

Hux’s father, on top of being a douchebag and an absolutely horrible parent in general, also refuses to allow Hux a normal diet. He insists on fancy foods like filet mignon and rare steaks at nearly every meal. Hux is holding out hope that his father dies young; until then, he’ll use his AmEx and order junk food when his dad isn’t paying attention. It’s highly unlikely he even opens the bank statements, anyway.

“That’ll be nice,” Ben says. “I just want a night where I’m a normal kid again.”

Smirking, Hux stops outside his classroom. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Rolling his eyes, Ben groans. “Don’t remind me.”

Hux gives a quick salute before turning on his heel and walking into his classroom, leaving Ben to rush to his as the bell rings.

The week begins to pass in what would almost be considered a normal fashion for Ben until Thursday afternoon, when he’s sitting in the cafeteria waiting for Hux to arrive, and he’s approached by someone who’s never spent two seconds even so much as looking in his direction.

Her name is Phasma, and she’s the coolest girl in school.

She’s not friends with Poe or anything, who’s the biggest douchebag in school (according to Ben, at least) but she certainly controls the minds and actions of a large portion of their class. She says and does whatever she wants — and gets what she wants, too. Her platinum blonde hair is in a short bob, and she wears crimson lipstick daily. 

And she never, ever looks at Ben. Ever.

But now, she’s sitting next to him in the cafeteria, and she’s smiling in such a saccharine sweet way that it makes his stomach twist. He doesn’t know what’s coming, but he’s afraid of it.

“Hi, Ben.”

She leans her elbow on the table, and cradles her face in her hand. She’s leaning towards him with just enough of a sparkle in her eye that Ben becomes even more nervous. He swallows past a lump in his throat. “Hi.”

“I just want you to know, I’m really sorry about what happened last week,” she continues. “All those cameras? I tried to get them away from you. When Hux bolted —”

“He told me he got dragged away by Professor Snoke,” Ben interrupts.

Phasma smiles, in a way that’s _too_ polite to actually be polite. “Yes. Well, I still tried to get them away from you. I’m really sorry they mobbed you. Whoever told — they must be so sad and pathetic, trying to get attention through you.”

Ben swallows thickly and nods. “Yeah. It’s a little annoying.”

“Oh, of course it is! People are trying to coast by on _your_ fame,” she says. “It isn’t right. If they want fame, they have to earn it.”

“Well… I didn’t earn it,” he points out.

Phasma smiles. “You were _born_ lucky.”

Ben glances around the cafeteria; he wonders if Hux is coming soon, and can save him. Phasma is a lot nicer than he thought, but she still puts him on edge for reasons he can’t really explain. 

“Anyway, I was wondering if you had a date for the Homecoming dance yet,” Phasma says. “I was going to go with a guy who goes to Central, but he got benched so he’s obviously no longer a catch. I’d rather spend my night getting to know you better.”

Confused, Ben asks, “Why me?”

“Because you’re a very interesting guy,” Phasma says. She’s still smiling, but Ben feels a little less nervous now. “And I bet you look incredible in a suit.”

Awkwardly, Ben says, “You could just Google that. The State Dinner was last weekend.”

“Will you take me to the dance, Ben? Please?” Phasma asks. 

She drops her hand to the table, brushing her fingertips against his hand where he’s been fidgeting with his lunch tray. “I’ve been so nervous to talk to you, but… seeing that you’re just a normal guy… I knew I had to ask. I didn’t want this to be the thing I looked back on in high school and regretted,” she begs.

Ben considers it for a moment, and looks around. Hux is nowhere to be seen — and he has to admit, he’d kind of like to go to the dance, just once. He’s never been. 

“Okay,” he nods. “Yeah, we can go to the Homecoming dance together.”

Phasma beams, her bright white smile glimmering behind her crimson lips. “Great! I’m wearing a red dress — pick me up at eight?”

He nods, watching as she walks away, Ben’s mind a confused, garbled mess.

——

Hux and Mitaka sit in his basement on Friday night, Hux checking his phone for the hundredth time. They’ve got their computers all booted up and ready to go, _Borderlands_ all loaded up and ready to go on co-op mode, but still no sign of Ben. “He said he’d be here,” Hux says through frustrated, gritted teeth.

He grabs for another slice of pepperoni pizza and chomps on it angrily, tapping out another text message to Ben: _Where are you? We’re going to start without you._

Awkwardly, Mitaka sits next to Hux and glances from his computer, to Hux, and then back again. He’s always been a timid kid, and doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of his bad temper. It seems, however, that the latter is inevitable, as Ben is ignoring Hux’s text messages.

Ben has stood them up.

——

Rey stands out in front of the garage, looking up and down the street. It closed nearly an hour earlier, and Ben was supposed to be there. He said he’d take her to his house, and that they could watch a movie together since she couldn’t afford to go to the homecoming dance.

She looks at her battered up old iPhone, the screen cracked and the buttons well-worn. No message from Ben saying he wasn’t going to be there. No apology, no excuse, no nothing.

Her heart sinks through to the ground. She’s waited an entire hour, and he’s stood her up. Defeated, Rey lets her shoulders slump and begins the walk home. It’s not far, but had she known she wasn’t going to Ben’s after all, she would have ridden her bike. At least then she would have been going too fast for passersby to bother her.

She makes it home safe, but with a disappointment deep within her. She’d thought what she and Ben had was something special, something akin to friendship — a thing she’s rarely ever had. 

Apparently, she was wrong.

——

Thankfully, Padme had let Ben borrow the suit he wore to the State Dinner. It fit him perfectly, unlike any other semblance of a suit he could throw together using garments in his or his dad’s closet. He did his hair the way DJ the traitor told him to, and he wore a red tie in order to match just enough with Phasma. 

He picked her up at eight in his fancy Mustang, totally fixed up by Rey and handed off to him the week before, and they went to the dance.

Ben has never been to a dance before, and never thought he’d go now. He supposes it’s better than a _ball_, where he’ll undoubtedly have to dance with old rich women who expect him to act a certain way, or maybe marry their granddaughter. A sudden fear strikes Ben — is he going to have to marry someone he doesn’t care about? — but that’s not what matters.

What matters is that once again, everyone is staring, and Ben _hates_ it.

Phasma smiles and waves, telling them all to stop staring, and Ben’s grateful that she’s at least doing that for him. She understands his discomfort and his shyness, and he’s grateful for that. It’s a kindness he didn’t think she’d actually be able to offer him — she’s always seemed so self-serving in the past.

For a while, Ben actually starts to forget where he is and why he’d resisted attending the past three years. He’d thought it was full of lame people grinding on each other and going to some rich kid’s place afterwards to drink shitty beer. But instead, it’s music — not his favorite, but it’s _something_ — and everyone’s dancing and laughing and having a good time. 

Phasma’s a pretty good dancer, and doesn’t mind taking the lead, which Ben appreciates. Dancing at the homecoming dance is nothing like dancing in his grandmother’s ballroom. He wonders if she’d be disappointed in him and the way he’s dancing now, awkwardly flailing his limbs as Phasma moves gracefully in front of him.

She doesn’t invade his space too much, but certainly keeps him within an arm’s length of her. It doesn’t really bother Ben; he’s always assumed she was pretty bossy and possessive. It’s how she has so much control over the rest of the students in their class.

He’s not even that uncomfortable when a slow song starts, which shocks him greatly. She steps closer to him, arms around his shoulders, and Ben rests his hands on her hips. 

It’s nice, hanging out with Phasma. Because of her, and her bright smile and her demand for his full attention, he finally doesn’t feel like everyone is watching him. It feels like, for once, there are no cameras on him, no watchful eyes waiting for him to screw up.

He feels like a normal kid again.

And it’s that sense of security he feels that allows him to let Phasma step closer to him, her body pressed to his, their noses bumping. He knows what comes next — and it’s about time, he thinks, because it’s insane that he’s seventeen and he’s never been kissed. She wants to kiss him. And Ben, full of curiosity, wants to kiss her, too.

Mere milliseconds after their lips meet, things go to shit.

Camera flashes begin to go off, and Ben immediately panics. Memories of the mob outside the school flood back into his mind, and he tries to get away. Phasma grabs his tie and pulls him in for another kiss, and Ben is so shocked his arms flail but he doesn’t push her away. For a moment, he just kisses her, because he’s too overwhelmed to do much of anything. 

But then he steps back, Phasma standing there looking a little offended at his reaction, cameras still flashing at them. “Stop!” he bellows.

But instead of stopping, they just capture his angry, threatening face in the harsh lights of other camera flashes. It’s students, he thinks it’s a few chaperones, and he thinks he wants to get out of there, _fast_.

He runs, lanky limbs carrying through the school, a route he’s memorized from years of walking the same halls daily. Tossing himself dramatically into his Mustang, Ben drives home, as unsafe as it may be, because he needs to get away from there. He needs to warn his grandmother. _Fuck_, she’s going to be so disappointed.

They’re all going to be so disappointed.

Naboo won’t want him anymore.

He’s in a daze when he walks through the front door of his house. Han looks up from his place in the recliner, startled at the sight of his son looking so frazzled and upset. Ben doesn’t realize he has a few tears on his face — he’s not really aware of much at all.

Hurt. Betrayal. It’s hard to push past those feelings to grapple with literally anything else. 

“Ben.”

Not _kid_. Not _son_. But _Ben_. The moment he hears his father say his name, Ben starts shaking his head, slowly feeling himself crumble. He leans against the door and slides down it until he’s sitting, knees propped up and head hanging in shame. His breathing is heavy and unsteady, the panic clearly approaching. 

“Ben, listen to me.”

Han kneels down in front of him, rests his hands on Ben’s knees.

“Ben?”

All he can do is nod. Ben has no words. He doesn’t know how to say how he’s feeling. He can’t possibly tell his dad what happened, not without breaking down.

“Breathe, kiddo. It’s okay. Whatever it is — we’ll get through it.”

Han’s discomfort at the words slowly ebb away as he watches the effect they have on his son. Ben has always been sensitive, always struggled to really interact meaningfully with the world around him. He connects better to books, to other loners. And sometimes he has trouble taking it all in.

Ben shakes his head. They won’t get through it. He’s ruined everything.

His breathing quickens.

“Hey, no, Ben, listen — breathe with me, alright?”

Ben squishes his eyes shut and listens to his dad’s voice. They may not have much in common, but it’s always meant the world to him that Han could connect with him in times like these, when he needed him the most.

“There you go. Just breathe.”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Repeat.

Han’s hands never leave Ben’s knees. He’s a presence, a comfort.

Finally, Ben speaks.

“She used me. There were cameras — grandma’s gonna _hate_ me, I —”

He looks up at Han, and the look on his face is devastating to see. Ben’s eyes appear nearly sunken and bruised, the tears affecting him more than expected. His hair is a stringy, sweaty mess from all the running. His skin is pale, the moles standing out so stark against it. 

“Hey, we’ll get through it. We always do, Ben. No matter what.”

Ben sucks in a breath and bites hard on his lower lip when he feels it begin to tremble. Han rubs his hands comfortingly over Ben’s kneecaps as he watches his son hang his head in shame again.

“You can cry, Ben. It’s alright.”

“I’m too old,” Ben argues, his voice shaking as he does.

Han shakes his head. “No such thing.”

Ben looks up with an almost hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

“It’s true,” Han insists. “I cried when your mom died. Hardly ever saw her in the last decade, but… she meant a lot to me. And I cried because she was a good woman. Annoying as hell, but an incredible woman.”

Ben takes a trembling breath.

“And you’ve been hurt. Bad. By someone you trusted,” Han continues. “And you get to cry for that. You can cry for whatever you need. No matter what.”

“I —”

Ben brings his hands to his face, his shoulders beginning to shake, and for a moment Han thinks that he’s in over his head — that this is something he’s just not prepared to handle.

But it doesn’t matter if he’s prepared for it or not. His son is a prince, and his son is carrying so much weight on his shoulders, and if he needs his dad to just hold him while he cries, then that’s what Han’s going to do.

Han scoots across the floor as well as he can in his old age and sidles up next to Ben. Then, he puts an arm around Ben’s shoulder. It’s shocking how quickly his son folds against him, seeking strength from him. 

They sit like that for as long as Ben needs, no matter how sore Han will be the next day.

It’s what a good dad would do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has to deal with the aftermath of the Homecoming dance, and makes apologies all over town. He also has to decide once and for all what he's doing about the whole prince thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Meeda for beta reading this for me, and many thanks to Caitlin for making this moodboard!

“That kind of behavior is entirely unacceptable. We are trying to maintain a dignity and pride as a country and as a people. We cannot have our prince out gallivanting around and kissing young women in public so brazenly! You are to be a gentleman. _Chivalry_, Benjamin. Be _chivalrous_!”

Padme paces back and forth behind her desk. Strewn out on the desktop is the day’s newspaper, Ben’s face plastered on the front — well, half of his face, anyway. The rest is pressed to Phasma’s face from when he’d kissed her the night before. Ben sits in a chair facing his grandmother’s desk, slouched over in humiliation. One foot rests on the other and he looks so unsure of himself, so small, as he listens to Padme berate him.

“If this is the kind of behavior you’re going to partake in, Ben, I don’t know if this arrangement is going to work,” Padme says bluntly.

She stops in place and faces him, hands on her hips. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ben is quiet; there’s nothing to be heard in his grandmother’s study save for the gentle chattering of Holdo to somebody undoubtedly important on the phone — or the press, but Ben doesn’t want to think about that. The whole world is probably calling to get a statement or some extra bit of news to publish.

Slowly, Ben shakes his head.

“Nothing at all? No apologies? No remorse?” Padme presses.

He takes a deep breath. Ben knows what’s in his mind, knows what he needs to say, but has to summon the strength and courage to say it. His grandmother’s hard gaze does nothing to help him along, her anger clear on her face. 

The wrinkles he’d noticed weren’t smile lines, they were frown lines. She’s been disappointed and angry so much in her life, and he’s just gone and made it worse. His chest constricts and the ache is almost unbearable; he hardly has any family left, yet he manages to continue disappointing them at every turn.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” Ben says timidly. After a beat, he says, “I think it’s best if I don’t become Prince of Naboo. I’ll give the speech at the ball next weekend.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t dare read the look of disappointment on her face. Even so, it absolutely crushes him to hear her response. 

“I think that’s for the best, Benjamin.”

He sits in silence, squishing his eyes shut. Her agreement hurts more than any admonition ever could. She’s telling him what he’s always known: that he was never meant to be a prince, that he’s not good enough.

“You can go.”

Ben avoids her eyes as he stands and turns to leave the study. He takes a good look around at the estate, but doesn’t dare make eye contact with his grandmother. Aside from the ball, this is probably the last time he’ll see this place or these people. The thought of that hurts more than he thought it would. 

Dragging his feet as he moves, Ben walks out into the foyer, leaving Obi-Wan and Padme in the study. He looks so absolutely dejected and Obi-Wan picks up on this as he walks nearer to the desk.

Padme makes eye contact with him and the two share an intense look. Padme is the first to hedge. She sighs. “Was I too hard on him?”

Obi-Wan just nods, his expression saying far more than just yes. She went overboard, and he knew it, and she knows it, though it’s far too late to take her words back. She lowers herself to her desk chair dramatically, leaning back and closing her eyes, fingers to her temple. “Do you think he can do it?”

“I have no doubt of it.”

His answer is so quick, so sure, that Padme knows immediately that she overreacted. She could cost Naboo a great future due to her rash reaction to one poorly handled evening. What’s more is, Padme had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t Ben’s fault. She expected him to say as much, to want to explain, so was surprised when he didn’t. 

He hadn’t wanted to plead his case at all. He’d taken responsibility for what happened, regardless of whether he needed to, and was now hurting because of it. 

Rather than offering kindness or suggestions to Padme, Obi-Wan leaves the room, a move of solidarity in support of Ben. Ben is just opening the door, looking resigned to walking home, when Obi-Wan clears his throat. Ben whips around to see what the sound is, before he looks sharply back down at the ground, remembering he’s in trouble.

“Would you like a drive home?”

Ben shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “You don’t need to do that. I’m not going to be a prince anymore, so I shouldn’t get the perks.”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan says as he approaches. He comfortingly puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder and turns him towards the door. “I insist. You will always be a prince to me.”

Ben sighs, but follows Obi-Wan out the door to where the limo is parked in the front drive. “I can’t do it,” Ben confesses. “I’d be a crappy prince.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Obi-Wan opens the door for Ben, who doesn’t protest or act weirded out one bit. It’s habit for him, at this point. He slides in and waits for Obi-Wan to sit in the driver’s seat before he argues. “Grandma thinks I would be.”

“That is simply not true,” Obi-Wan argues back. He starts the limo and puts it into drive before he continues to speak. “She’s very protective of you, and worried that the… side effects, for lack of a better term, will be harmful to you.”

“So she thinks I’m weak?”

Obi-Wan takes a breath and reconsiders his approach. “She doesn’t see you as weak, she sees you for who you are — a big-hearted, sensitive young man. All traits that, with proper experience and training, will make you one of the greatest leaders Naboo has ever seen.”

Ben crosses his arms and slouches. Obi-Wan leaves him be for a moment, but then opts to change the subject in hopes of boosting his mood. “Where would you like to go?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to assume that Ben wants to go home. He may not want to go anywhere near a place that reminds him of recent events. 

“Hux’s?”

Ben is already miserable, so facing an angry Hux will be easier than on any other day, he figures. He’d thought that Hux and Rey would both understand, but he was afraid of their response anyway, and hadn’t told either of them of his change of plans. Now, not only did he heavily regret that decision, but he knew he had to face their wrath.

Obi-Wan hesitates, but sees the resolve in Ben’s eyes and nods, accepting and agreeing to his answer. The route isn’t as familiar to Obi-Wan as driving Ben home, but he makes it without any issue anyway, and drops Ben off in front of the gaudiest mini-mansion he’s ever seen. Ben climbs out and keeps his head down as he goes up the walk and to the front door.

He hesitates before ringing the doorbell.

When the door opens, a tall, angry man with greying hair scowls at Ben. Rather than telling him to leave, though, he at least has the decency to shout over his shoulder, “Armitage!”

The man walks away before Hux even arrives at the door. When Hux reaches the last of the stairs facing the doorway, he pauses. Immediately, he’s scowling just like his father, and doesn’t take another step towards Ben. 

“Shut the door, kid!” barks Hux’s father from the next room over.

Ben looks to Hux, who just raises an eyebrow. Without asking, Ben steps further into the house and closes the door behind him. “Why are you here?” Hux asks harshly. “I thought you were too busy with your popular, famous friends.”

“I don’t —”

“You ditched me. You have _never_ done that before,” Hux shouts. “All because you’re a prince now? I thought we were friends, Ben.”

“We are.”

“Oh, are we?” Hux challenges. “Or are you just saying that because Phasma used you for what she wanted and now she’s stopped talking to you again? Even _I_ could have told you she was just using you.”

Ben is quiet, standing awkwardly in the foyer with his hands stuffed in his pockets again. He doesn’t argue; Hux could, indeed, have told him that Phasma was using him. But, he didn’t want that to be the truth; he wanted so desperately to believe that she was interested because of who he was, not _what_ he was. And he’d been wrong.

“Well sucks to be you, because Mitaka and I had a great time without you,” Hux snaps. 

He looks over at the table in the hallway by the door, at the newspaper with Ben’s face plastered on the front page. “Why don’t you and your princess go live happily ever after _without me_.”

Hux shoves the paper against Ben’s chest and careens them both towards the door. Ben looks at Hux sadly, and for a moment considers just walking right out that door and losing his only long-lasting friendship because of one screw up. But Hux is the only person he trusted with this, and he needs to get something off his chest. He needs Hux to know how sorry he is.

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to be a prince.”

Immediately, Hux’s hand drops, newspaper and anger forgotten in the blink of an eye. “What?”

Ben shrugs. “I’m not going to be a prince. I turned it down.”

Hux looks gobsmacked. All anger is gone, replaced with confusion and — sadness? Ben doesn’t understand. He reaches behind him for the doorknob, but is stopped by Hux, who steps forward and pushes against the door. Ben turns, looking at Hux as he says, “I should go. You don’t want me here.”

“Why did you turn it down?” Hux asks harshly.

Dumbly, Ben replies, “Because… I’m an idiot?”

Hux waggles the crumpled newspaper in Ben’s face. “This isn’t worth turning down a crown for! You have a chance to have power, to make change!” Hux shouts. “Why would you give that up?”

“Because I can’t be a king,” Ben says simply. “I make stupid mistakes. I’m not good with people. I let my temper get the best of me. You name a reason someone shouldn’t be king, it probably fits me.”

Shaking his head, Hux says, “No. No, that’s not what was supposed to happen. You’re supposed to —”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben interrupts. “I’m not going to be prince, and that’s it. I told my grandma already.”

“Ben —”

“You should go to the Independence Day ball, though,” Ben says, abruptly changing the topic so they don’t have to discuss it anymore. He looks down at the floor and says, “You can bring Mitaka. You guys can hang out, see the estate, watch me give a speech and hopefully not puke on the front row.”

Hux is frowning deeply, his brow wrinkled up as he thinks of what to say. He lowers his hand from the door, but before he can form words, Ben is opening the door and walking out of the house. 

Thankfully, Obi-Wan is just down the street, parked and waiting just in case. 

Ben climbs in, but the car doesn’t start moving. After a moment, Ben looks up to the rearview mirror to see Obi-Wan very intentionally waiting for them to make eye contact. “How’d it go?”

“He hates me, but also doesn’t want me to give up the crown.”

Ben says it so simply, and is surprised at just how much the words hurt. He can’t figure out if it’s the former or the latter part of his sentence that makes his chest constrict with pain so much, but doesn’t want to find out. 

“Perhaps that means you need to reconsider your decision.”

It’s easy for Ben to shake his head to that. He knows he’d be a fool to reconsider. “You heard grandma. She even agreed with me,” he sighs. “I’m not meant to do this.”

Instead of arguing, Obi-Wan takes the high ground and instead asks a completely new question. “So, where to next?”

Ben looks out the window and contemplates for a minute. “My car is ready,” he says. “And I should apologize to Rey, too.”

Obi-Wan hums. “Sounds like you had a lot of plans for last night.”

Ben says nothing in response. 

They drive across town to the garage where Ben’s car is ready and waiting for him — and where he knows he’ll have to speak to Rey. Of all the people he’d hurt, he feels the worst about hurting her. Not that his grandmother or Hux aren’t important, but Rey… she’s different. There’s something about her that he’s never really been able to put to words, and he’s good with words. 

When he pulls up, Ben tells Obi-Wan that he doesn’t have to wait, that he’s going to be able to drive his car home — and even if for some reason he can’t, he’s close enough to walk. Obi-Wan still waits until Ben walks through the door of the shop before putting the car into drive, though.

In the shop, Rey’s leaning over inside an old Honda Civic’s hood. Ben notices the way she glances over at him, but then turns right back to her work.

It’s absolutely warranted.

He waits, hands in his pocket and head bowed like a dog with its tail between its legs, until finally Rey sighs, tosses her grease rag aside, and stands up tall. She’s in a grey tee shirt and denim overalls this time, her hair in the trademark three buns down the back of her head. There’s a speck of grease on her cheek and a smudge of it on her arm, and if looks could kill, Ben would be dead.

“Hi.”

“You’re late. By like, a day.”

He takes a step closer to her, but when he does, Rey steps backwards and to the side to her tool bench to dig around for a wrench. “I came to apologize.”

“Oh? For what?” she asks coolly.

Ben knows he deserves each and every bit of sass he’s had to field all day — from his grandmother, from Hux, from Rey. He has a lot of apologies to give out and a lot of trust to earn. 

“For ditching you last night. I shouldn’t have.”

She tosses a screwdriver to the side and it falls with a great _clang!_ against the top of her beat up Craftsman tool bench. “And?”

His face screws up in confusion; what else had he done? He seems to think too long about it, because Rey gives up her search for the tool she needs in order to stand up, put her hands on her hips, and narrow her eyes at him.

“For not telling me you weren’t coming. I stood out here for an _hour_. You didn’t text, you didn’t call… I was worried. _So_ worried.”

Ben nods. “I’m sorry,” he says, knowing full well he’s in the wrong. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry, Rey.”

Darkly, she looks up at him to ask, “Was it worth it?”

Taken aback, he asks, “What?”

“Was it worth it?” she repeats. “To get to spend a night with Phasma? _Prince Ben?_”

It’s the first time they’ve ever broached the topic of him being a prince, and it’s nothing like he expected it to be. Frowning, he shakes his head. “Please don’t do that,” he begs. “I’m not even going to do it.”

“Do what?”

She goes back to digging through her tools, until she unearths the wrench she was looking for. As Rey returns to the Honda and starts fiddling under the hood, Ben explains, “I’m not going to be a prince. I told my grandma today that I wasn’t going to accept the crown. Once I give the speech next weekend… that’s it. I’m just a normal guy again.”

Rey freezes in place. When she stands up tall, she tucks the wrench in her pocket and walks towards him. “You’re going to chicken out? Give up on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?” she asks.

He nods. “Yes. I won’t be good at it. I’ll embarrass Naboo,” he explains. “And that’s just one of the many reasons why I shouldn’t.”

“But..” she begins. She looks down, contemplating her words carefully. “You have a chance to do something really great. To have a voice. To get out of Ohio.”

Confused by her sudden change of tone and demeanor, Ben asks, “At what cost?”

Rey looks up, gaze fierce and, quite frankly, a little terrifying. “But you’ll be able to help people. Make a difference. Give a voice to the normal people, unlike most of the politicians and royals out there.”

“Rey —”

“You shouldn’t give that up,” she continues. “You can do so much good. You have a background that so few others _do_. I just — you can’t —”

She stumbles over her words and just stops. Her scowl returns and she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to do whatever you want to do, and I can’t change that,” she says stubbornly.

Once again, Rey returns to work, but this time Ben is less afraid to approach her. He stands, his hands on the side panel of the car as he watches her work. “Will you go to the Independence Day ball next weekend?” he asks. “My grandma has tons of dresses, since I know you didn’t go to homecoming because dresses cost a fortune. Or I bet Hux could —”

“Phasma would look amazing in a gown.”

Rey puts down her wrench, clearly unable to get any work done while Ben is there. She crosses her arms and watches him, curious to see what he’ll do. He sighs in defeat and shrugs. “I want you to be the one I share it with.”

Rey is speechless.

Taking her silence as a no, Ben makes one last plea. “Just think about it, alright? You could just show up in that, and they’d get you all dressed up,” he says. “It’d be fun.” Ben takes a step backward, sensing that their conversation is long over. “Just consider it. Please.”

He crosses the garage to where he knows they keep the keys and he grabs his keychain. His grandmother already paid for the repairs, so he can go out to the lot and drive away in his sleek, shiny black Mustang. He leaves Rey to make her decision, alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has made his apologies, and now needs to wait out the last painful week before he gives his speech at the Nabooian Independence Day Ball. However, a surprise letter from his late mother changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to Meeda for beta reading this, and to Michelle for the lovely moodboard! We're in the home stretch :)

Ben stays in the following day and somehow manages to push past his dread in order to set foot in school on Monday. He’s surprised to see Hux at his side almost immediately, and for them to return to where they’d been before Ben blew him off. There are eyes on him, of course — there are bound to be stares after his and Phasma’s kiss made the front page of the newspaper. It’s scandalous behavior from a prince, and they all know who he is.

And in five short days, they’re all going to know that he’s a quitter, too.

His grandmother lets him skip prince lessons, says he knows all he needs to know in order to succeed at the Independence Day ball. She promises that Holdo is drafting a speech for him so he can officially renounce his title, and that’s all there is to it.

Just one more obligation and he’s free of that whole part of him.

He can forget his royal side once and for all.

It doesn’t help his guilt any, seeing his dad dig out his old suit and take it in to get tailored and dry cleaned. Nor does it help having Han spend actual time preparing meals like spaghetti and tacos rather than going with his usual microwave meals or frozen pizzas. His dad is making an effort to cheer him up, but it hurts Ben, because he knows he doesn’t really deserve it. He’s letting his family down — his mom, uncle, grandmother — and doesn’t deserve being coddled like this.

Hux says he’ll go to the ball, but that he won’t bring Mitaka. He’s going to go for moral support, and because he’d quite like to see what all the fuss is about. Ben stops by the garage on Wednesday after school, but Rey is nowhere in sight. 

All in all, it’s one of the most disappointing weeks of his life.

Friday after school, Ben arrives home to see the tell-tale limousine of Obi-Wan’s outside his house, parked on the street. He frowns, confused. The ball isn’t until Saturday, he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

As he walks up the drive, he notices that Obi-Wan is sitting in the living room with Han, but that his grandmother is nowhere to be found. That does nothing to give Ben any answers. When he walks through the door, the confusion on his face is so great that Han chuckles a bit before he says, “Hey, kid.”

“Why is the limo out front?” Ben asks bluntly.

Obi-Wan’s expression remains carefully neutral. “Your grandmother came to visit. She has a gift for you.”

Ben sighs and crosses his arms, closing himself off to anything and everything that comes next. “I don’t want any gifts. I just want to finish this ball and be done.”

“That is disappointing,” says Obi-Wan.

“Just go see what she wants, Ben. You might be surprised,” Han encourages.

Ben rolls his eyes in typical teenager fashion and grumbles, “Yeah, right.”

He ascends the stairs to his bedroom anyway, and right away spots her in his room. She’s sitting on his desk chair, her pristine dark grey suit standing out against the pale blue of his walls and the white of his furniture. Once upon a time, black hadn’t been his favorite color.

She turns when she hears his footsteps approaching, and smiles gently. “Ben.”

“Why are you here?”

All manners are gone; he’s upset with her for how she’d talked to him, even though the situation had been out of control. But more than that, he’s saddened by how quickly she’d agreed that yes, it’s probably best if he doesn’t assume the crown and become prince and eventual king of Naboo. She’d been so confident in her answer, and it had hurt Ben deeply.

“Have a seat, please,” she says, gesturing to his bed.

Ben stands stubbornly by the door, but after a few moments of her waiting patiently for him to obey, he does. Dramatically, he slams himself down on the edge of the bed and crosses his arms again. “Yes?”

“First, I wanted to apologize,” Padme begins. “Last week, when the newspaper first came out and I spoke to you… I was very heated. I was worried about you, but went about it all wrong. It’s never easy to admit when one does wrong, but it’s important to me that you know how sorry I am for how I treated you.” 

Ben says nothing. He’s not sure yet if he wants to accept her apology.

“I was told by Obi-Wan that what happened at the dance that evening happened against your will. That you were not okay with what this young woman did to you. That is not okay, and I’m very sorry she put you in that position, and that it was spread so widely,” Padme continues. “She has been approached by representatives of the Royal Family of Naboo.”

Embarrassed, Ben says, “Great. More for her to pick on me for at school.”

“She will do nothing of the sort,” says Padme firmly. “And she and her family are aware of the consequences if they do not.”

Ben has heard in history class the extent of power some royal families can have. He’s not sure he wants to know what will happen to Phasma if she treats Ben poorly again.

“I’m very sorry for how our conversation happened, Ben,” Padme reiterates. “I’d like you to know that I did not mean what I said. It was the heat of the moment, and it was unfair of me to judge you so harshly. You have done nothing but try your very best in very unusual circumstances. I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

Though he’d love to be stubborn and deny his grandmother the forgiveness she’s looking for, he can’t help but swell with happiness at the admission that she’d been wrong, and she’d treated him wrongly. It comes with no demand of apology on his behalf, and sounds quite earnest. Before he can really think too much about it, he nods. 

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. 

They’re quiet; Ben doesn’t know why else she’s here, or what to say to accepting her apology. He’s done what she asked for, so what more could there be?

After a moment, she reaches down by her feet, where a simple dark blue gift bag sits. She lifts it and hands it to Ben. “This is for you,” she says.

Confused, he asks, “Why?”

“Your birthday is close. Just a couple of weeks, correct?” Padme asks, to which Ben nods. “Well, consider this an early birthday gift. I was taking notes when we were shopping together a few weeks ago.”

Slowly, Ben begins to open the gift. There are beautiful fountain pens and ballpoint pens, and beneath it all is something very heavy. Pulling it out, he sees that it’s a thick leather-bound journal, with a lock on the cover. He grazes his hands over the book, and then sees something shimmering in the bottom of the bag.

A key.

“That’s a gift from me and your mother.”

Ben is quiet. He knows very little about her, and is aware that Padme knows likely even less. War had broken out in Naboo before Ben was born; his mother had taken refuge in the nearby country of Alderaan, with a family who couldn’t bear children of their own. His mother’s twin Luke had taken refuge in nearby Tatooine, with another family Ben couldn’t remember the name of. When they’d been sent away, Padme and Anakin had to say goodbye to them for years, to save them from the uprising of a small but dangerous political faction who called themselves only _The Senate_.

Now eradicated, the threat gone, Naboo was safe. But, Luke and Leia had made lives for themselves in their new countries, and later on, it was decided that the first child born to either Luke or Leia would become the prince or princess of Naboo. 

Ben was the _only_ child born to either of them and the weight of it all lay on his shoulders. Later in life, Leia had reconnected with her mother, whereas Luke left it all behind… but Leia hadn’t reconnected with Han and Ben. Whatever it was that had been left to him, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it. 

But, he took it anyway, and thanked his grandmother politely. “She was so looking forward to seeing you when you were old enough,” Padme says gently. “We wanted you to have a normal life. Your father, your mother… they all wanted that for you. I’m so sorry things happened the way that they did.”

Ben smoothes his hand over the cover of the journal once more — it’s like a Moleskine, but better — and simply nods. He doesn’t know what to say, having already thanked her. He enjoys writing, but to litter the journal gifted to him by his mother with such unimportant words and thoughts of a normal boy, not a prince, seemed an awful disservice.

Slowly, Padme stands and takes a step towards Ben. She leans forward and kisses the top of his head. “I think you’ll make an absolutely wonderful prince.”

Ben looks up. Sadly, he says, “I’d be afraid to disappoint the people of Naboo. And I don’t want to disappoint you again.”

She frowns, patting his shoulder sadly before leaving the room. He’s left with the journal in his lap and lots to think about.

——

The morning of the Independence Day Ball, Ben wakes up to the sight of his bespoke suit hanging from his closet door. Everything he needs for the celebration is in his bedroom save for the crown, which his grandmother has of course kept at the estate. The sight of the suit instills a sense of foreboding deep in Ben’s gut, and he despises the feeling. 

Whatever is going to happen that day, he knows it isn’t going to be good, and it’s not going to be what he wants. 

He’d been up thinking most of the night, and at one point he’d let the dog, Chewie, into his room to curl up on the bed with him. Chewie had stayed at attention for most of the night, head on Ben’s stomach as Ben scratched at his head and pondered his future. 

He could still change his mind. He could stay. He could accept that he is a prince, and one day be king.

Or, he could run.

He was almost eighteen, anyway. His dad would probably just say something like, “Okay, whatever you want, kid. You’re tough and smart. You can do it.” So, what point was there in staying? And why go humiliate himself one more time by giving a speech in front of so many important people? Besides, he doesn’t want to see the look on the Netal’s faces when they realize that he’s going to give up the crown.

Public speaking was never his strong suit, anyway.

Ben sighs, Chewie nuzzling at his chin, as he tries to come to terms with the day. 

He rises, has a bowl of Reese’s Puffs, and then showers. His dad asks him if he wants to go out and do something that day before the ball, but Ben says no. He hides up in his room most of the day, imagining all the ways his speech could go wrong that evening.

Ben feels too sick to eat lunch, and when it comes time to get ready, he tells his dad that he doesn’t need help, that he remembers how to tie a tie and all of that. 

Han at least _pretends_ to believe him, and leaves Ben alone.

“I can’t do this,” Ben says to the dog, shaking his head as he stands from his bed.

He wanders to the desk, where the journal that Padme had gifted him the day before still lay, the key on the surface next to it. Slowly, Ben picks up the key and unlocks it. 

There, on the front page, is a letter… from his mother.

_Dearest Benjamin,_

_No doubt you are receiving this years later than you would have liked. If you’re anything like your father — and you were, when you were born — you’re likely quite upset with me. Perhaps you resent me. That’s okay. The decision I made was a difficult one, and every day after you were born I wondered if it was the correct one._

——

Hux stands in front of his bedroom mirror, adjusting the crimson bow tie he wore with the rest of his suit. He feels ridiculous, his red hair combed and slicked back with some gel, his suit jacket buttoned at the waist, cuff links from his grandfather (the nice one, his mom’s dad) on his jacket. He turns to the left, and then to the right, taking in his appearance one last time before nodding and going downstairs. 

As promised, Obi-Wan and the limo are out front, waiting to transport him to the Nabooian Independence Day Ball.

——

_Sometimes, life presents us with choices we don’t want to make and decisions we don’t feel strong enough to make on our own. When I was presented with the opportunity to return to Naboo or continue representing the Organa family on Alderaan, the decision was difficult. But, that was nothing compared to the choice I made to send you back to America with your father. I miss you every day, and have every confidence that you are a strong, intelligent young man with a big heart and a good head on his shoulders._

——

Han looks himself over in the mirror, furrowing his brow and mumbling critically at the fact that he’s having some trouble getting the front of his jacket to button. “They don’t make suits like they used to,” he mutters. 

He takes a deep breath, sucks his stomach in, and manages to close the button before he goes down the hallway to the closed door to Ben’s bedroom. He raps his knuckles against the wood and shouts, “Hey, Starfighter, you ready?”

Ben is pulled from the letter for a moment. He’s startled, still sitting on the edge of his bed in sweatpants and an old hoodie. “Oh uh — I still need a few minutes,” he shouts back. “You can go without me. Obi-Wan said he’d pick me up.”

Han hesitates, but responds, “Alright. See you there, kid.” He hesitates, but adds, “You’re gonna do great.”

Ben frowns and returns to the letter, grateful that his father bought his little white lie.

——

_When you are presented with the decision to rule Naboo or go on living your normal life, I hope you weigh all your options. And remember, Ben — no matter what you choose, your father and I will always love and support you. The country of Naboo can run with or without you. Your happiness is the most important thing. But, I want to pass along a piece of wisdom that my grandmother passed on to me. Your great-grandmother, Shmi, shared a quote with me from First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt that I will never, ever forget: _

_“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”_

——

Rey stands in front of the mirror in the Nabooian estate. She’d been nervous, when the old guy in the leather jacket had come into the garage, asking if she was Rey Johnson. She’d tried to pass him off onto her boss, but he’d said that he’d come on behalf of the Prince of Naboo. That had stopped Rey in her tracks, worried that something had happened to him.

Instead, he offered a formal apology and invitation from the Prince, and asked if she would join the Queen at the estate for tea. Curious as to what Ben had cooked up, and suspicious that it would be some sort of over-the-top apology, she’d gone.

Tea had turned into a dress fitting, and now Rey stood in one of the many guest rooms of the estate, wearing a beautiful pale blue ballgown, strapless with white gloves and her hair up in a regal chignon. She wore an expensive necklace around her neck with earrings to match. The only thing Rey didn’t like about the outfit was the high heels, but the Queen had assured her that they weren’t _that_ tall.

Rey felt unsteady and very nervous, but upon looking at her reflection, felt like a princess for the first time. Her appearance took her breath away, and though she was upset with Ben, she couldn’t help but put that aside for one night, to support him in this next step of his life. 

Now, all she had to do was get down the stairs without falling.

——

_Consider your options now, Ben, but also consider your future. Believe in yourself and your convictions, of all those who come before you. Your grandfather, Anakin, had no training whatsoever. But, he did it. He was one of the finest leaders Naboo has ever seen. Strength and power run in our blood. _

_You are stronger than you think, Benjamin. Of that, I am certain._

_Whatever you choose to do, my dear, know that I have more love for you in my heart than any person can truly hold. I am proud of everything you do, and wish I had been there to watch you grow up._

_Lots of love,_   
_Your Mother, Leia_

Ben releases a trembling breath, only vaguely aware of Chewie’s cold nose pressing against his arm, begging for attention. Absentmindedly, Ben drops his hand to the dog’s head and pats him, satisfying him for a while.

Terrified, Ben leaves the journal on the desk and leaps from his bed.

“I can’t do this, Chewie,” he mutters, beginning to throw whatever clothes he can find into his backpack. “We — I can’t —”

Ben has no words. The letter from his mother comforted him, in a way, but also reminded him of the weight of his decision. Of how much is at stake, and what lay ahead.

He’s not strong enough for that kind of power. He can’t handle the thought of seeing his father and grandmother disappointed all over again.

His mind is made up, and there’s no going back.

——

At the Nabooian Estate, Queen Padme stands in the center of the ballroom, looking around at all the guests who’ve arrived thus far. Her white gown is adorned with golden accents, crown glistening atop her head. At her side stands Obi-Wan; the teenagers Hux and Rey standing awkwardly side by side next to him near the stage. Hux flushes deep red when his arm brushes the arm of Lady Bazine Netal, and he looks down at the floor immediately.

“Where is Ben?” Padme asks, leaning towards Obi-Wan.

“He informed me that he’d be arriving with his father.”

Obi-Wan gestures to Han, who’s just beginning to make his way through the crowd towards the Queen. “Wonderful,” Padme says, looking at Han with an anxious smile. “You’re here. We need to get Ben backstage, to rehearse the speech.”

“What are you talking about?” Han asks. “He said Obi-Wan was picking him up.”

Immediately, Padme and Obi-Wan look each other in the eyes. Obi-Wan knows exactly what’s going on.

“He’s going to run.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the Nabooian Independence Day Ball, and for Ben to deliver his speech to the people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you to everyone who's been along on this wild ride. I have loved every moment of writing this, and don't want to let this universe go. Unless things drastically change, stay tuned for Prince Diaries 2: The Royal Engagement. It's been written in my head, so next step is getting it on the page.
> 
> Thank you Christa for the beautiful moodboard, and to Meeda for being a wonderful beta. I hope you enjoy the final installment of this fic <3

Halfway through packing his things up, Ben switches to using a duffle bag instead of his backpack, but he gets distracted by loud barking. “Chewie, shut up.”

He moves frantically throughout his bedroom, grabbing the journal, a few books, and his photo of himself and his mom from the bookshelf and stuffing them all in the backpack now devoid of clothes. By the time Ben actually manages to get downstairs, Chewie is barking incessantly and Ben doesn’t understand why.

As soon as he opens the front door, he understands.

Blocking his car into the driveway is a sleek black limousine, a man in a leather jacket leaning with his arms crossed against the side, near the back passenger door. 

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben shouts.

He urges Chewie back inside, and then pulls the door closed. 

“We’re going to talk about it.”

Ben huffs. “Can’t you just move? I want my normal life back. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t,” Ben repeats. “I’m not my mom or my grandma or my grandpa… I’m an awkward, dorky loser who isn’t supposed to be a prince.”

“That’s not true.”

Ben hates how sure of himself Obi-Wan sounds. It’s unfair. It’s not right. He’s barely known Ben for two weeks, he has no idea what he’s like. But, the man is stubborn and he won’t move.

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Ben asks, sounding more defeated than anything.

He drops his backpack and duffel bag on the ground, desperate for some alone time. He wants to forget all this royal business ever happened. 

“Because I’ve seen this all before,” Obi-Wan says simply.

Ben is quiet. He doesn’t understand, but isn’t sure he wants to ask. Whatever is about to be said next, it’s probably not good for the point he’s trying to make for Obi-Wan to leave him alone.

“Your grandfather said all the same things to me when he was debating proposing to your grandmother,” Obi-Wan explains. “He nearly gave up on love over the fear that he wasn’t good enough. And do you know what happened?”

Sarcastically, Ben says, “He was one of the greatest leaders Naboo has ever seen.”

“That is what the history books will tell you,” Obi-Wan nods in agreement. “But, behind the scenes, things were different. He made mistakes. He lost his temper in meetings, when he was told he was too young, or wasn’t of royal blood, and therefore didn’t deserve an opinion in official matters. He’d say the wrong things at social gatherings and even sometimes during speeches. Your grandfather was passionate and disliked having to hide his love for your grandmother from the world. He had a big heart, though, and that was what kept him persevering. He was a great leader _because_ he made mistakes. The same ones that you fear you will make, yourself.”

Ben sighs. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He’d _just_ made up his mind, and now he was second-guessing himself. In fact —

“I can’t stick to decisions I make,” Ben laments. “That makes me a poor leader.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head simply. He knows that he’s won, but that Ben is trying to use the tactic as a final argument against his assuming the crown. “No, Ben. That makes you open to seeing other sides of debates. It shows that you are wise beyond your years,” he says.

Ben’s shoulders slump and he looks down at the ground. 

He knows what he has to do, but still doesn’t feel as though he has the strength with which to do it. “Why don’t we go inside so you can put on your suit,” Obi-Wan suggests calmly. “We’re on a tight schedule, and I do believe your grandmother would like to have your speech delivered as soon as possible, to get Count and Countess Netal off her back.”

——

“I can’t believe you actually fell for his lies,” Padme admonishes Han as she looks around the ballroom.

The guests are getting anxious for the speech to be delivered, and the kitchen isn’t ready to serve much more than light hors d'oeuvres early. They are, however, doing an excellent job of stalling with those and some sparkling grape juice or champagne. 

“How am I supposed to know when the kid’s lying to me? It’s very convincing,” Han argues.

Padme shoots him a very stern glare.

She hasn’t heard from Obi-Wan in at least thirty minutes and Holdo has been trying to reach him on his cell phone since then. “Your Majesty,” Holdo says, pocketing her phone after the tenth time attempting to call Obi-Wan. “I think you may need to deliver the speech on his behalf. We can’t keep them waiting much longer.”

Padme sighs. “Yes, alright,” she concedes. “Five more minutes.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. If you’ll just come with me, I’ll bring you to the side of the stage and prepare your speech,” Holdo says.

Padme follows, sending one last critical look at Han before walking away. Several members of the press approach him to try to ask questions, but he just waves his hand at them in annoyance and retreats towards the bar.

Five minutes later, a speech has been drafted and neither Ben nor Obi-Wan have appeared. Reluctantly, Padme walks to the podium at the center of the stage and looks out at the impatient crowd. A hush falls over them all as they wait with anticipation for her announcement.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Padme begins. 

She takes the time to look around at the whole crowd, intending to make each and every individual feel welcome in the Nabooian estate.

“No doubt you have all come here this evening to see my grandson,” she continues. 

As she opens her mouth to speak some more, a shuffling sound from off to her right distracts her, and she glances over. There, hidden from view of the crowd, is Obi-Wan, holding back the curtain for none other than Ben.

Ben stands timidly, looking a little sweaty and flustered, but otherwise as he should look for the ball. He’s wearing the suit she’d had custom-made for him, and his hair falls in well-washed and styled waves, though they could probably used a combing.

He holds up a sheet of paper, and though he looks like he’s about to be sick, Padme understands. Looking back at the crowd, she sees Hux and Rey’s looks of confusion, and Han’s look of concern.

“It is my pleasure to present him to you this evening,” Padme says. “Please welcome Benjamin Naberrie Skywalker Solo, Prince of Naboo.”

She holds up her arm and steps to the side, gesturing to Ben as he walks out on stage. He walks smoothly, just as he’s been taught, and his hands only shake slightly as he places the sheet of paper on the podium in front of him.

He feels out of place, standing before a crowd full of people much older than him. But then, he sees his father, surreptitiously giving him two thumbs up, and then notices Hux and Rey off to the other side, watching him with curiosity.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Ben looks down at the piece of paper he’d scrawled on, and takes a deep breath.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he begins. 

When he looks up, Ben focuses on a spot at the back of the room, the trick Holdo had told him not five minutes earlier when he’d handed her the speech he’d written to get her final approval. She had, shockingly, signed off on it with absolutely no edits.

“An hour ago, I was prepared to give up the crown,” Ben continues. “At the age of seventeen, staring down my eighteenth birthday, I stand at the edge of a lot of major decisions in my life. What college do I go to? What do I study? Does the girl I’ve fallen for have feelings for me in return?”

His eyes dart to Rey, whose face turns bright red as she looks down. Hux looks unsurprised, until he notices Lady Bazine looking at him. Then, he looks down, flustered yet again, and Ben has to remind himself to keep going, rather than laugh at his friend.

“But, what I wasn’t expecting was a letter from the past that could change everything,” he says. 

His voice is low and booming, hesitant but strong. Everything a young leader should be. Padme stands with pride, letting Ben have the floor.

“My mother was an excellent leader,” Ben says. “She made difficult decisions such as choosing to stay with her Alderaanian family, and sending me here with my father for a good, normal life. She knew that being raised away from the demands of royal families could give me something that no other royal son or daughter could gain: the perspective of the people.”

Fingers trembling, Ben turns the paper over to read the rest of his speech.

“I can’t promise I will be a great leader from the start,” he continues. “I’m a teenager. I’m still making mistakes and learning from those mistakes — like being late here tonight.” The crowd laughs lightly. “But, I can promise you that I will learn from those decisions I make — the good and the bad. I am determined to learn the same way my grandfather did. To lead the same way my mother did. I’ve disappointed myself for years, but I can promise that I will not do the same for Naboo.”

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the crowd. There’s pride in his father’s eyes that Ben has never seen before, an expression that, until that moment, Ben didn’t know his father knew how to exude. Rey is already beaming, and Hux looks pleased. Only the Count and Countess Netal are frowning, at this point in his speech. 

Ben knows he’s doing well.

Without looking down at his paper, he lowers his hands to his sides and says confidently, “So tonight, I announce to you all that I am now, and forever will be,” he pauses for effect, “Benjamin Naberrie Skywalker Solo, Prince of Naboo.”

It’s the first time he’s said his whole name, and he stands in astonishment that he hadn’t tripped up on it. The room bursts into applause and he feels the presence of his grandmother at his side. She’s smiling proudly, and holds the crown in her hands. Slowly, Ben bends his knees to duck down just enough to allow her to rest it atop his head.

The weight feels good. It pulls him to stand a little taller, to take a little more pride in himself and what he’s chosen to do. The string quintet begins to play as he walks offstage, and he’s met with a relieved and happy look from Hux, and a massive grin from his father. Behind them both stands Rey, standing nervously in her gown, waiting for him to spot her and approach.

Ben avoids conversation with either of the men, opting to walk directly to Rey, a relieved smile on his face. “You came,” he says.

Rey looks down at her dress, then back up at him. “Yes,” she nods. “I guess that Prince Charming thing hit a little closer to home than I thought it did.”

Ben smiles, lopsided and awkward. They’re both nervous, incredibly nervous, and as couples begin to dance around them, Ben knows what comes next. He holds up his hand, an offering to Rey that doesn’t need any words. She smiles, relieved, and places her gloved hand in his. 

It’s like dancing in the garage, but even better. Rey looks so beautiful, dressed up like this. Though Ben will probably always prefer her in the coveralls she usually wears, smudges of grease on her cheek or her chin, seeing her in this light is… new. Surprising. Intriguing. That she’d gone to all this effort for him speaks volumes.

Perhaps forgiveness is in the cards for him, after all.

As they begin to sway with the music, Ben notices Hux out of the corner of his eye. The girl he’d been blushing next to earlier, Lady Bazine, looks just as shy to be dancing with him. Both of them pleased, Ben wonders if perhaps more good came out of this Independence Day Ball than originally anticipated.

They dance, and then they dine, and then they dance some more. The evening seems to go on forever, but with just a few songs left, Ben feels the need to do one last thing.

As he and Rey are dancing to one of the traditional Nabooian compositions, something written for the court back in the 1700’s, he asks her, “Will you come with me?”

Confused, Rey asks, “Where?”

He nods his head to the side. “The gardens. I think you’d like them.”

Curiously, she nods, agreeing to follow him through the crowd and out of the estate. He keeps her hand held in his the whole time, not wanting to lose her in the swirls of dancing couples or the confusing corridors of the back of the estate.

Moments later, they reach the terrace, with one stone path leading to the garden. “I can’t do this in heels,” Rey says, looking at the tiny circular stones and all the places where her heels could sink into the dirt and cause her to fall.

He hesitates just briefly before putting an arm around her waist. “Hold on,” he warns, before bending down to scoop his other arm beneath her legs.

Rey squeals, surprised by what he’s done, and holds tight around his shoulders. Thankfully, they don’t have far to walk. Though he’d like to be stronger, he’s really not, and carrying Rey bridal style down a ten foot walkway is enough for him. She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling beneath the fairy lights in the garden, strung along the walls of the bushes. The fountain splashes nearby, faint light from the glow lamps in the interior of the base lighting their way, as well.

The space is totally private and alone, and Ben feels incredibly lucky to be standing there with Rey, who looks so happy to be with him. The crown on his head doesn’t matter, in the end. Not really. Not so long as he’s got his friendship with Hux and his… _something_ with Rey. Only then has he truly won.

“This is beautiful,” Rey says, looking around at the romantic, picturesque garden.

Ben’s dark, intense eyes never leave Rey as he says, “_You’re_ beautiful.”

His words seem to steal the breath and the words right from her mouth. Lips slightly agape, she stares up at him, surprised by his boldness. He can’t tell if she’s blushing, just knows that she hasn’t walked away. With as forward as he was, that means something. It means _a lot_ of something. He takes a half step forward, until the toes of his Oxfords are brushing the hem of her gown. Ben places his hands on her hips and moves hesitantly, unsure if what he’s doing is still okay.

Rey’s hands fall to his upper arms, a reassuring warmth. “Thank you,” she says softly.

He bows his head down, his forehead nearly pressing to hers as he does. “I’m really glad you came,” Ben confesses.

Rey smiles, he can hear it in the soft laughter from her mouth before he ever opens his eyes to see it. “I am, too.”

She coaxes him along by sliding her hands up his arms and draping them around his shoulders. He can feel her fingers playing loosely in his hair, and his heart begins to race wildly in his chest, threatening to burst forth from his ribcage. 

In the end, Ben isn’t sure who initiates it. Their lips meet between them and, in seconds, his heart feels like it’s soaring. His hands slide around her waist and their bodies press together. Rey is hesitant against him, but doesn’t pull back; it’s as new to her as it is to him, but they can learn together. She combs her fingers through his hair and he feels her tongue brush gently against his lips. The kiss remains slow but curious, the two of them moving together until the urge to breathe becomes too much.

When Rey leans back, Ben rests his forehead to hers once again. The only sounds they can hear are the sounds of the fountain mixed with their steady, heaving breaths. Ben keeps Rey close, can feel her trembling. The fall air is cool against their skin, colder than he’d expected. 

“I…” she begins, but words fail her.

Ben leans away just enough to look her in the eyes and smile. He can’t think of a single thing to say, either, but knows deep in his heart that what just happened is the start of something neither of them could have ever expected. Heart still pounding in his chest, Ben looks down at Rey and doesn’t just see a mechanic, or his friend, or possibly his girlfriend… he sees a princess.

Which is perfect, because he just so happens to be a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello over on Twitter -- I'm armitagehoox!


End file.
